


Even The Thorns Have Roses

by Miko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bandits & Outlaws, Body Image, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Oral Sex, Scars, Temporary Physical Disability, Uneasy Allies, Vaginal Sex, spirit dragon, unnamed character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: Genji Shimada came to Deadlock looking for information about his wayward former teammate, but got a lot more than he bargained for in Elizabeth Ashe. When a Talon strike against the Rebels leaves the two of them as reluctant allies, he finds himself intrigued by her brilliance and cunning... not to mention her beauty.Ashe doesn't normally consort with lawmen, but she'll do whatever it takes to get revenge for her gang. As heroes go, Genji's not so bad, with a good sense of perspective and the willingness to do what's necessary when push comes to shove. He's certainly easy on the eyes, despite what he seems to think. There's no reason they can't have a little fun together, before going their separate ways.They both have to keep reminding themselves that thisisonly a temporary alliance.





	1. Chapter 1

_Don't need a hero to save me_  
_I'm not a girl to set free_  
_It's nothing you did to me_  
_I've always been this way_

_I might be strong, I might be weak_  
_There might be a part of me that I won't let you keep_  
_Been on this road, and come this far_  
_I don't need a man to hold my hand_  
_I just want one to hold my heart_

_Don't be afraid to hold this_  
_Even the thorns have roses_  
_I know I can stand alone_  
_But I can't love on my own_

_-'Hold My Heart' by Lindsey Stirling ft. ZZ Ward_  
_(For me, this will forever and always be Ashe's theme song)_

When Elizabeth Ashe walked into the High Side saloon, she expected to find the usual crowd of locals and not much else. People didn't _visit_ Deadlock. At most, they passed through it, and only if they absolutely had to. Part of that was admittedly due to the reputation of the Deadlock Rebels, but part of it was simply that there was nothing interesting in these parts. The Cave of Mystery wasn't much of a tourist trap.

She was very surprised to see a stranger seated at the bar. They wore a black sweater with the hood pulled up, worn black jeans, and odd metal boots with glowing lights where spurs might sit on a local. No obvious way to tell from the back whether it was a man or a woman, but as Ashe approached on the left, she saw what was definitely a man's strong hand holding the whiskey glass. 

The right hand was metal; not unheard of, though something that fancy and articulated cost big bucks, the kind most folk couldn't afford. Hell, those 'boots' might be cybernetic feet too, though it was rare for someone to have so many limbs replaced.

Ashe smelled Money, despite the broken-in, nondescript clothes. Smiling, she pulled her coach gun and snuck up behind the fella, then planted the barrel at the back of his neck. "Well, well. Don't get many strangers 'round these here parts. Seems to me you ain't paid your toll yet."

When he turned his head to look behind him she could tell he was Asian. He wore one of those surgical masks they used when they were sick or afraid of getting sick, so it was hard to see much of his face. His eyes glowed a dull red beneath the brim of the ball cap he wore under the hood. Expensive cybernetics, the kind with low-light or even dark-vision capabilities. Ashe was impressed. She was also counting the dollar signs gleefully. 

"This is unwise," the man said, his voice calm and level. There was a weird kind of tone to it, almost hollow, like an Omnic. If he was upset about the gun at the base of his skull, he gave no sign of it. He didn't seem surprised, either, as if he'd been aware of her coming up and chosen to let her approach. "I am not looking for trouble."

That gave Ashe pause. Just about everyone freaked out at having a gun to their head. The few who didn't either had a death wish, or were military. The kind of nasty military who might actually be able to do something about the threat before she could blow his head off, and that would certainly explain all the missing limbs. 

Too late to worry about it now; backing off would make her look weak, and there were enough locals in the bar she couldn't afford that blow to her rep. 

"Sorry, sugar," she replied in her best honey-sweet Southern drawl. "Seems like trouble's found you."

"You promised you wouldn't get no blood all over my bar for at least a month," the bartender, Billy, grumbled. He was wiping a dirty glass nearby, unconcerned about the little drama playing out, other than worrying about his bottom line. "Takes me all damn night to clean up after one of your bar fights, and blowin' his brains out'll be even worse."

"Hear that?" She prodded the stranger with the gun. "You wouldn't wanna inconvenience Billy, would you? Hand over your wallet, and anything else you got. Then you can be on your merry way."

"The cost of that drink better come out of whatever you get off him," Billy put in, and Ashe laughed. 

None of the threats or banter seemed to faze the man. He regarded them both without visible expression. "I have nothing of value for you to take."

"Oh, yeah? Those cybernetics of yours look pretty darn valuable," Ashe challenged him. "Maybe I'll just see what I can get on the black market for 'em. If you're nice and cooperative, I'll even have Bob carry you to the train station, since you won't have no feet."

Sighing, the man put down the whiskey glass he'd been toying with. "Last warning. Remove the gun, and walk away before this gets ugly."

Once again, a shiver of unease worked its way down Ashe's spine. This encounter was _not_ following the usual script, and she didn't like it. None of the other Rebels were in the bar; Billy would back her up in a pinch, since her crew were his best customers despite the bar fights. But if this stranger was half as good as he seemed to think he was, it could indeed get ugly. 

All she could do was try to call the guy’s bluff, and hope it _was_ a bluff. "I don't think you quite appreciate the danger you're in, pardner." Ashe cocked the coach gun. "I'll give you to a count of three. One..."

Exploding up off the stool, the stranger whirled around and grabbed the barrel of the gun before Ashe could even think about reacting. She pulled the trigger on instinct, but he'd shoved it to the side, and it blew a big chunk out of the wooden bar. The recoil should have ripped the gun out of his grasp and sent them both flying, but he held on with his metal right hand with no apparent effort. 

"Hey!" Billy protested, scrambling to get out of the line of fire. "Somebody's paying for that!"

Ashe didn't have time to snarl at the bartender, too busy struggling with her intended prey. He used the grip on the gun to yank her towards him, and by the time she thought to let go, he already had hold of her. Twisting, he wrenched her around and pulled her hand up tight against her back, high enough to hurt bad. If she struggled, she might break or dislocate the arm. He leaned his considerable weight against her, pinning her face-down on the bar, pressed against her from chest to hips.

Any other man, she'd have expected to find his dick digging into her backside right about now; this type of jerk always seemed to get off on having a woman in a vulnerable position. Instead, all she felt beneath the clothes was more hard metal. Crap, was that bad disguise covering some kind of armoured suit? 

"Get offa me," Ashe roared, outraged. 

"You heard her." Billy had grabbed his double barrel shotgun out from under the bar, and was aiming it their way. "That ain't no way to treat a lady. Let her go, and back off nice and slow."

The man sighed again. He sounded weary, like this was all very tiring to him. "If you force me to disarm you, I'll have to incapacitate her first to ensure I don't have an enemy at my back. I'll be in a hurry, which means I’ll hurt her in the process, and hurt you when I reach you. Please put the gun down so I do not have to do any of those things."

This time, Ashe had no doubt the man was capable of doing exactly as he said he would. He'd moved like lightning, too fast to see. She'd never witnessed anything like it outside a martial arts flick, and those things were staged as all hell. Nobody could really move like that. Except this guy apparently could.

The few other patrons were slipping out, not wanting to get involved. Billy was the only one trying to help, and while somebody was undoubtedly running to get the rest of her gang, Ashe knew they wouldn't arrive until it was all over. She didn't want to get herself or Billy hurt. Gritting her teeth against the acid rage seething in her gut, she gave in. "Drop the gun, Billy. Get outta here."

She tried not to be irritated when he obeyed so quickly, it was obvious he'd been about to do so anyway. He scuttled through the door marked 'employees only’, leaving her alone with the stranger. Truly alone, she realized, glancing around. Everyone else was gone, fled to safety.

"You're gonna regret this," she growled. "Whether you kill me here or not, you ain't walkin' outta this town alive. It's just a question of how bad you get hurt in the process of dyin'. D'you have any idea who I am?"

"Judging by your jacket, I'm guessing you're with the Deadlock Rebels," he replied, very dry. "If your attitude is anything to go by, you're highly placed among them, though I've known plenty of arrogant gangsters with inflated opinions of their own importance."

Had their positions still been reversed, Ashe might have laughed at the accuracy of that statement. Unfortunately, she was in no kind of laughing mood. "You're one tough son of a cur, I'll give you that. But even you can't get past twenty guns aimed at you from all different directions, which is what you're gonna be facing when you walk out of here."

"You're assuming I'm planning to use the doors to leave," he replied, a hint of dark amusement in his hollow voice. Ashe had no idea what the heck that was supposed to mean. He couldn't hide in the saloon forever, and the ground floor windows didn't open. "Here's my suggestion instead; I let you go, we have a conversation like rational adults, and then we both leave in peace and you'll never see me again."

Ashe hesitated. Much as it grated on her nerves and her pride, she was all too aware how badly this guy could hurt her. Yeah, the gang would avenge her, but that wouldn't do her any good if she was dead. Or worse, permanently maimed - Ashe was nothing without the gang she'd built through blood, sweat, and tears, but they wouldn't follow her if she was useless. And she couldn't afford fancy replacements like this guy had.

Besides, she could always agree and then kill him later. 

"All right," she agreed, mollified by the realization. She phrased her capitulation carefully, because a woman’s word was her bond, and Ashe didn’t want to actually break it. "Let's call a truce. We both walk outta here alive and well." As soon as he was one step past the threshold, he was ‘out’ and fair game.

"Excellent." He released her immediately, and took several steps back to get out of reach. To her astonishment, he even scooped up her coach gun from where it had fallen, and slid it across the bar back to her. That he showed no hesitation to re-arm her told Ashe she'd made the right choice. He would only do that if he was absolutely certain she posed no threat to him, even with the gun. At this point, she had to admit he was probably right.

"Would you like a drink?" he invited, righting the stool he'd tipped over when he jumped up, and taking his seat at the bar again. 

His hood had fallen back in the chaos, revealing that the ballcap sat over a tight black cowl that covered his head and neck, what looked like it might be an artificial spine, as well as a metal band across his forehead and more metal where his ears should be. He was definitely wearing some kind of powered armour, but he pulled the hood up again before she could get a closer look.

"I thought we were walkin' out of here," Ashe replied, wary of this bewildering invitation. 

"After a conversation," he repeated, tipping his head at a nearby stool. Not the one next to him, but on the other side of it, where they'd be able to talk at a reasonable volume but not be in reach. "If you are part of the Deadlock gang, you may have the very information I'm looking for."

Of course. She should have realized there was no way a guy like this was hanging around in the High Side by chance. He must have been planning to pump the locals for intel.

"I ain't tellin' you diddly squat about my gang," she answered, planting her hands on her hips and making no move toward the stool. "Now, hightail it on outta here before I change my mind about whether it's worth fightin' you."

Once again, he ignored her threat as if it hadn't been made. "I'm looking for someone, and I assume you know him. Jesse McCree."

The burn of rage and the sting of betrayal swept through Ashe. She forgot her anger at this stranger, consumed by a much older, more powerful hatred. "You're workin' from badly outdated info, stranger. That rat bastard traitor shows his face 'round here again, I've got a bullet with his name on it. Hell, I've got a whole lot of 'em; his death won't come any easier than yours." 

There wasn't much that could make Ashe swear; being a lady was part of her rep, what made her known among other gangs. Jesse McCree was on that very short list.

"I know he was here not long ago." The guy gave her a flat look, made eerie by his red eyes. "He helped you rob a military supply train that passed through."

" _Helped_ us?" Ashe snarled, and snatched up the whiskey the guy had never touched, knocking it back. The burn of liquor in her throat was nothing compared to the acid in her gut. "He had a lotta nerve, sauntering in here and stealing _my_ haul right out from under my nose! Killed a half dozen of my people, too." 

She neglected to mention the part where her gang had very definitely shot first, and McCree had been acting more or less in self-defense. It was his own fault for being there, and trying to steal her rightfully stolen loot.

The question was, _why_ was a highly trained martial arts specialist with probable military background and expensive armour tracking McCree? There was only one answer that made any sense. He was a bounty hunter, after that big fat reward on Jesse’s head. 

Ashe might be furious with her sworn blood-brother and former best friend, might have vowed to have his head on a platter, but that didn't mean she was going to hand him over to anyone _else_. She had some idea which direction Jesse had gone, at least until he'd ditched her bike and the tracker on it. Instead of saying anything about it, she played up her outrage - though it didn't require much acting - to convince the guy she had no idea where McCree might be and no interest in finding out.

He seemed to buy it, nodding and looking disappointed. "I see. I thought perhaps he had rejoined you. A pity." Standing, he bowed to her in that way Asians did, not deep but very formal. "Thank you for your time, and the information. I do not suggest attempting to retaliate against me." Turning, he strode for the back entrance, perhaps thinking to avoid the gang posse undoubtedly waiting for him out front.

Ashe smirked. Her crew was well trained, they'd have the back door covered, too. He was in for a surprise. 

"Hey," Billy protested, still hiding behind the staff door. "You ain't paid for that drink yet!"

"The lady drank it in the end," the guy called back, and there was amusement in his strange voice. "She can pay for it."

"Excuse me?" Ashe lost her smirk, glaring after the stranger. But he was gone, vanished into the dim back hall like he'd never been there. "Jerk." Grumbling, she fished a coin out of her pocket and tossed it on the bar. She did owe Billy for the damage, after all.

Seconds passed with no gunfire or shouts from outside. Then minutes. Billy cautiously emerged from hiding, scooping up her coin so fast it disappeared like a magic trick. Still nothing. Scowling, Ashe stormed out the front. 

Sure enough, the sound of a half dozen guns cocking immediately echoed through the canyon. "Hold it right there!" someone shouted, and then made a disappointed noise. "Never mind, it's Ashe. Did you kill him after all, boss?"

"He went out the back. Don't tell me you idiots left it unguarded?" Ashe strode around the side of the building, and found more of her crew surrounding that exit. "Where the heck is he?"

"Didn't come this way, boss." Lowering his gun, one of the gang members scratched his head. "Maybe he's still inside?"

They poked around a bit, but there was no sign of the stranger anywhere. Huffing in annoyance, Ashe crossed her arms. Despite herself, she was reluctantly impressed. The guy had quite thoroughly given her crew the slip, just like he'd said he would. He really was like one of those fellas out of a bad ninja movie, vanishing into the night without a trace of his passage. 

"Start callin' everyone you know," she ordered her crew. "Get the word out. I want to know about any sighting of this guy. Which way he came from, which way he went, what he did while he was here. _Everything_. He can't have got far, and he'll have to hole up somewhere for the night."

Nobody hunted one of her family and got out alive. Jesse might be a traitor, but he was still family. And if anyone got to kill McCree, it would be Ashe.


	2. Chapter 2

People frequently accused Genji of being too paranoid. Usually, he replied with dry humour that it had saved his life more than once, and he certainly wasn't going to drop the habit any time soon. It may have saved his life again tonight, when he peered into the back window of his hotel room and saw the woman from the bar standing inside by the front door, shotgun raised to her shoulder, waiting for him to come through. 

Unfortunately, his paranoia had been on hold when he first arrived in the area. He'd checked in like any normal person rather than breaking in for the night, though he'd paid cash under an assumed name. He'd figured it might take him a day or two to track any hint of McCree in the area, and had wanted a base of operations.

He'd hoped to make it back to his room before she found him, but he'd had to take a long rooftop detour to avoid being sighted by her people. There was no question that she was indeed as highly placed in the Deadlock Rebels as she'd claimed; the whole town was buzzing over him. 

Nor could he simply walk away; his swords were in there, because there was no way to hide them on his body, and he hadn’t wanted to be visibly armed in the bar. Likewise, he’d left his helmet and removable parts of his armour there, hoping people would assume only his right hand was cybernetic. One replaced limb wasn’t much to remark on, but a man seemingly in a full suit of armour would definitely draw the wrong kind of attention.

Genji cursed himself for a fool. He should have left the gear cached somewhere accessible. He hadn't anticipated a throw-down in the bar, though in hindsight, he felt like an idiot. This was gang territory, after all. He knew better than anyone how gangs behaved towards other predators in their territory. The only surprising thing was that the woman seemed to be alone.

Nothing for it now. She wasn't the type who'd get bored and wander off without her prey. Genji eased the window open, glad he'd taken the time to oil it before he'd left, and slipped silently inside. He'd have to cross into her line of sight to get the swords, so he couldn't just grab them and flee. He'd have to confront her.

Pushing back his right sleeve, he flipped three shuriken up from the arm compartment into his hand. The mechanism made a soft ratcheting sound that drew her attention; she spun, shifting her aim fast enough to rival McCree's legendary draw. 

Not fast enough to deal with a ninja. Genji flung the shuriken with all the force of his cybernetic arm. The first struck the barrel of the gun, knocking it sideways. The second plunged a blade through the trigger guard and into the wall, pinning it in place. The third went higher, close enough to brush her nose, before burying itself in the wall as well.

The albino woman froze, eyes wide, staring at him in disbelief. Genji met her gaze, letting her see that he wasn't happy. "I didn't miss," he informed her. "That was a warning shot. The next one hits your eye."

She glanced down at where the shuriken blade passed through the trigger guard, having missed cutting off her finger by a fraction of an inch. Carefully, she lifted her hands away from the gun, propping them on her hips instead. 

"That's some fancy trick throwin'," she said, all guts and bravado, not a trace of fear showing. She reminded him so much of McCree. "You oughta join a carnival or somethin'."

"I could serve in the sideshow when not performing under the big top," he agreed wryly. "I'm certainly enough of a freak. Why are you here? I would have left without giving you further trouble. More importantly, why are you here _alone_? You already knew you can't beat me, and you didn't strike me as stupid."

"You surely do know how to flatter a gal." Her smile was anything but friendly. "McCree may be a traitor, but he's still one of ours. Nobody hunts my people and lives to tell the tale."

She was protecting McCree? Interesting. She must think Genji was a bounty hunter; it was a reasonable conclusion, given the information that she had. "Then why not come with a... what's the word? A posse." Her mouth twisted in a grimace, and he chuckled. "The other gang members don't feel the same way, do they? They'd just as soon see McCree hang. You're clearly furious with him, apparently with good reason, yet you risk your life to try to save him from me?"

"That's what family does," she spat, snarling like a hellcat. "Don't matter how mad I am with him, nobody else gets to take him down."

"Not all families are like that," Genji murmured, clenching his right fist. He'd forgiven Hanzo, and come to terms with what his brother had made of him, but forgiving wasn't the same as forgetting. Nothing would ever erase the stain that night made upon his memories, and on his view of the world. 

Her lip curled with what might have been reluctant agreement. "Maybe not the blood ones. We got no control over them. But the ones we choose _should_ be that way. Just 'cause he turned his back on his family don't mean I'm gonna do the same."

Genji dipped his head in an abbreviated bow, acknowledging that truth. "Then we have something in common."

She gave him a mock sympathetic look. "What, your family didn't hug and kiss you enough as a kid, either? Poor baby."

"Actually, I was indulged to the point of being spoiled." Though she wouldn't be able to see it, he responded with a crooked smile. "What I meant is that we both chose Jesse McCree as family." 

Had anyone asked him, back when they were in Blackwatch, Genji would have flatly denied any emotional attachment to the cowboy. Yet Genji would have defended the man against any threat, giving his own life if necessary, just as this woman was doing now. He'd thought of McCree often in the years since they'd parted, and looked forward to meeting again.

The woman blinked, stared, and blinked again, like she was having trouble processing Genji's words. "Wait. You ain't hunting him? Who the heck _are_ you?"

"I am searching for McCree, not hunting him. I would never hurt him. In fact, if you mean him harm, there may be trouble between us after all." Genji narrowed his eyes at her. "My name is Genji Shimada. I'm guessing you're Elizabeth Ashe." Surely there couldn't be two women in all the world who fit the description in McCree's stories so well, let alone two in Deadlock.

She seemed flustered that he recognized her, chin going up in a posture of defiance. "McCree's been tellin' tales about me, has he? Well, don't believe everything you hear."

"He said that you are one of the most brilliant and determined people he's ever met, that you had overcome enormous adversity to find the freedom to be who you are, and that he admires you greatly." Genji cocked his head, amused. "Also, that you are beautiful. Which part isn't true?"

"Jesse said all that?" Ashe - McCree had always referred to her by last name, so Genji assumed that was how she preferred to be addressed - looked astonished. Then her expression hardened. "Now I know you're piling on the horse pucky."

"Why? Because he said complimentary things about you?" Genji was baffled. McCree hadn't talked often about the girl he'd called his blood-sister, mostly only when he was drunk, but there had never been a single negative comment in the lot. "You called him a traitor. That doesn't sound like him."

"Then I guess you don't know him as well as you think." Ashe's smile was sharp as any blade. "When push comes to shove, he'll save his own hide and leave you hangin’ by the side of the road. I woulda broke him outta that prison if he'd given me a little more time. Instead he goes off and signs up with the _law_ , of all things." 

She said 'law' the way most people would say 'sewage', like it left a bad taste in her mouth. Genji thought he was beginning to understand. McCree had taken Reyes' offer and joined Blackwatch to make something of himself, become something better. Like Genji, he'd sought to use skills gained through a life of crime to save the world instead of hurting it. Apparently, he'd left Ashe behind in the process without telling her why. It seemed she was, as McCree would have put it, 'spitting mad' about the abandonment.

Since they'd moved past the whole 'which of us can kill the other first' thing, Genji eased out of his ready stance. "I knew him in Overwatch, and McCree was one of the most loyal people I've ever met," he replied. "He never gave up on me, even though I pushed him away and sometimes treated him very badly. I owe him a great deal, including a sincere apology. I just have to find him again to make it."

"Well, you won't find him here," she snorted, crossing her arms and cocking a hip out. "If he knows what's best for him, he won't show his face to me again. Not after he wrecked my crew and stole my bike. Take that silly mask off, anyway. You look like an idiot."

Genji chuckled at the demand, but reached up to pull the surgical mask off. Beneath it, of course, was the much more substantial metal mask that kept highly oxygenated air in his damaged lungs, and hid the ravage of his face. 

Ashe made an astonished sound. "A mask beneath the mask? That's takin' paranoid to a whole new level, sugar." 

She used 'sugar' much the same way McCree had said 'darling', an empty endearment that half the time was meant to convey mocking disrespect. "The first mask was to prevent drawing questions, and avoid facial recognition technology. The second is for breathing. It doesn't come off."

Not quite true; he could remove it, and thanks to Mercy's efforts and the continued healing of the Shambali, he could even go quite a while without it if he didn't exert himself. But he didn't want her getting any ideas about ripping it off to incapacitate and overcome him. She'd fail in the attempt, but he'd probably have to hurt her to stop her.

He didn't want to do that, hurt this woman who was so important to McCree and a force of nature in her own right. Genji couldn't help but admire her, with her spitfire spirit and fierce determination to protect what was hers - even if she was furious with that person. 

It didn't hurt that McCree was right about her being gorgeous. Some might have found her albino eyes off-putting, but for Genji, it was an appealing point of near-commonality. He didn't meet many other people with red eyes, even if hers didn't glow and his weren't natural.

"Do you have _any_ idea where he might have gone?" Genji asked. "He's disappeared off the radar again, and he promised he would stay in contact to let us know his progress. Echo said she saw him here when he rescued her a few weeks ago, and there's been no trace of him since."

He saw the calculation in her eyes, the internal debate. Then she lifted her chin, her eyes defiant. "What's it worth to ya? You still ain't paid your toll."

Genji laughed, startling himself with the genuine amusement. Not many things made him laugh outright, even now when he'd found peace and some measure of happiness in his life. Laughter was yet another thing he'd lost along with his body, or so he'd once thought. "You really don't give up, do you?"

"Never." She narrowed her eyes. "Well? I may not be able to beat you in a fight, Shimada, but you ain't gonna get the information any other..."

A concussive blast shook the building, making the old wood timbers creak alarmingly in distress. Genji braced himself against the wall, and she did the same with her back to the door, both of them staring at each other wide-eyed.

"The heck was that?" Ashe demanded. "That weren’t no earthquake."

"No," Genji replied, grim as he darted to the window and peered outside. "It was an explosion." He'd been caught in - and the instigator of - far too many to ever mistake that sound for something else. A dark plume of smoke rose from somewhere nearby, visible only because it blotted out the surprising number of stars visible in the night sky. "What's east of here, about half a mile?"

"The gang," Ashe whispered, and she sounded shaken. "That's the direction of the hideout. How big?"

"Big." Genji wasn't going to sugarcoat it. If the source of that blast and smoke had held any humans, it was unlikely they'd all survived. 

He shrugged out of the hoodie and jeans he'd used to hide his cybernetic body, ridding himself of the restriction in case he needed to fight. Snatching up his swords, he slung them across his back where they belonged. He glanced at the bag tucked into the corner that held his visor and the rest of his armour, but it would take too long to put on. The people who'd been caught in that explosion needed help now.

Turning he found her staring out the window, wide-eyed and horrified. She'd been inhumanly pale-skinned to start with, but now she was white as a sheet. 

"What are you doing?" Genji pulled her gun off the wall, then tossed it to her when she finally turned to face him. "If those are your people, we need to go to them and rescue anyone left alive."

She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and steadied herself. When she opened her eyes again, it was the fierce warrior who looked back at him, not the shaken and terrified woman. "Then let's get a move on."


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the potential seriousness of the situation, Ashe caught herself sneaking frequent looks Shimada's way as they pelted down the main drag. He was clearly shortening his pace to stay beside her, running with long, graceful strides that ate up the distance and looked like he was hardly putting any effort in. He'd whipped off his clothes to reveal silver armour that hugged his body like a faithful lover, clinging to every curve of muscle.

On another man she'd have assumed the sculpted suit didn't reflect the actual state of the body beneath, but from him, she could believe those muscles might be real. It made her want to get a look beneath the armour to find out.

Which was out of the question, for so many reasons. He was a friend of Jesse's, from _Overwatch_ , which meant he was a lawman. Ashe didn't consort with those kinds of folk. Though, the fact that he was running off to help her people with no questions and no hesitation did give him a couple of marks in her good book.

Then they rounded the corner inside the warehouse, and came in view of the hideout itself - or rather, what little was left of it. Any thoughts of how muscled or attractive Shimada might be went straight out the window, and Ashe gave a strangled cry as she saw the rubble and understood the true scope of the disaster.

"Bob!" she screamed, her only panicked thought for her oldest, dearest companion. He'd been in there, and while he was tougher than a fragile human, he was far from invincible. 

She got two steps forward before strong arms snapped around her waist and hauled her to the side, both of them tumbling to the ground in a painful heap. All that metal was not comfortable to land on. "What the..." 

The sharp, distinctive ping of bullets ricocheting off the concrete around her answered the question before she could even ask it. Someone was firing at them, and Shimada had likely saved her life, tackling her out of the way. "Sonuva... this was an attack?"

She'd thought it was accidental, something gone wrong with their munitions storage, or with the crates from that military supply train Jesse had tipped them off about. But a deliberate explosion, set by an enemy... that was a whole different enchilada. 

Who would attack the Deadlock Rebels on their own turf? They had friendly relations with most of the other gangs in the area, and uneasy truces with all the rest. Nobody had been posturing at them lately, or making noises about wanting to expand into their territory. It made no sense.

"Stay down," Shimada commanded, in the tone of a man who expects to be obeyed. He shifted out from under her, keeping low to stay behind cover, and peeked around the corner to get a looksee.

Though the command was perfectly reasonable, and in fact exactly what she should do, Ashe bristled at being told to do it. "You ain't the boss of me," she retorted, and pushed up to her hands and knees. She wasn't suicidal, so she didn't go any farther than that yet, but she wasn't staying put. "Those are my people out there, I ain't sittin' around on my hiney while they get hurt. Or I'm no kind of leader at all."

Glancing over his shoulder, he regarded her with those eerie eyes, even redder than her own with a hellish light to them. His expression was assessing, and grudgingly admiring. "Fair enough. How good are you with that rifle? Can you cover me?"

Ashe gave him a wicked smile, using gallows humour to distract herself from the bodies of her people undoubtedly beneath that rubble. "If you think McCree's a good shot, you ain't seen nothin' yet. You got any real weapons, or just those fancy swords and tiny throwing stars? They ain't gonna do you much good in a gunfight."

"You'd be surprised." There was grim humour in his voice, and she suspected his smile matched her own, though she couldn't see it.

With that, he moved back a few steps from the corner, then ran _straight up the wall_ , climbing like a giant sticky-toed lizard. Ashe gaped after him, astonished. It seemed like every time she saw him move, she needed to look around for the camera drones and wire harnesses. He wasn't _human_.

More shots rang out, and she remembered she was supposed to be doing her job. She'd promised him cover, and while he might not technically be an ally, he was on her side at the moment, and depending on her.

Dropping to her belly, Ashe peeked around the corner much as he'd done, head lower than anyone would expect it to be so she wouldn't get shot instantly. She aimed her scope at the big truck left of the hideout entrance. Sure enough there were two bad guys in full flak gear perched on top, aiming right back at her. She lined up the first shot, breathed out to find the stillness inside, then feathered the trigger. First dickwad down.

The second one fired in her direction, but as she'd hoped, the shot went wild over her head. The moment he needed to adjust his aim was that crucial split second longer than she needed to adjust hers, and he dropped as well. Then Ashe pulled back behind the corner, just in time to avoid return fire from the goons on the ground.

The vision of the two men she'd shot danced through her mind, haunting her. Not because she regretted their deaths; she'd stopped caring about the people she killed a long time ago, especially the ones who deserved it. No, it was the high-tech gear they were wearing that bothered her, because that wasn't the kind of thing a gang would have access to. It was more on the level of Shimada's tech, top of the line and cutting edge.

That meant money, possibly military. The US government would love to shut down the Rebels, but these guys smacked of private army, not government. Who the heck with that kind of money would be going after her gang? It made no sense.

Screams sounded from nearby, followed by more gunfire, this time wild and rapid. That had to be Shimada, causing chaos in the back line as promised. With a grim smile, Ashe looked around the corner and lined up another shot.

They went back and forth that way, Ashe shooting heads until they turned to fire back, at which point Shimada would dance in with his blades until they turned to face him again. She didn't get a good look at him, since she was scoped in and focused on the bad guys, but what she did catch was impressive as all get out. She never saw him use the big sword, but he pulled the smaller one sometimes and _deflected_ shots with it. More movie magic.

There seemed to be no end to the goons, another sign that there was serious money being poured into this attack. Ashe fired, reloaded, fired, reloaded again. Just as she was popping in her last dozen bullets and starting to fret about how to tell Shimada she was out, there was a shout in a foreign language, followed by a roar like the hounds of Hell were descending on the place. Then silence fell, as the gunfire and screaming stopped.

In the quiet, she could hear the warning groans of parts of the warehouse superstructure that had been damaged, but not yet collapsed. More of it was going to come down eventually, and the whole place was a death trap. But Ashe couldn't leave, not without _knowing_ there were no survivors. 

These days she was no longer personal friends with every member of the gang, hadn't been in a very long time. They were much too big for that, and she was too busy. Most of them were nothing more than names and faces to her. A pain to lose because it would weaken the Rebels, and a personal affront for having failed to protect them, but they wouldn't leave her grief-stricken. Even those who were friends, she'd distanced herself from after Jesse's betrayal, wary of being hurt so badly again.

But God help her, Bob was in there somewhere.

Peeking around the corner, she saw Shimada sliding his long sword home into its sheath, a movement that was deliberate and almost ritualized. He paused with his head down, hands together in front of him like he was praying. One brief moment, maybe paying his respects to the dead, before he looked up and gestured for her to join him.

By the time Ashe crossed the distance, he was kneeling beside one of the attackers, rifling through the body. Up close, it was even more obvious that this couldn't possibly be a rival gang member. All that fancy equipment was fitted to the guy, worn enough that it was clear it had been used regularly, but well maintained and in perfect condition. _No_ gang had that kind of ready cash.

"Who are they?" she demanded, her voice hard as granite. She was trying very hard not to think about the fact that she couldn't hear any cries for help or whimpers of pain, no signs of survivors at all. Was _everyone_ dead? "Who dared to do this to my people?"

"Talon." Shimada's voice was every bit as grim and unforgiving as hers. "There's no identification, but there's nobody else it could be."

"Talon?" Ashe's brow furrowed, and she stared down at the mercenary or private military or what the heck ever. "Ain't they basically a country club for the rich and influential?" Her parents were members, but she'd never heard tell of them _doing_ anything other than attending parties to hobnob with other powerful folk. Undoubtedly there were all kinds of back-end business deals happening, but this was on another level entirely.

"That is one aspect of their public face," Shimada agreed. He stood, and surveyed the blast area. "Their mercenary corps is another. How many of your people would have been here?"

"This time of night? Most of 'em." Ashe forced the words out through lips that didn't want to move. "Once we'd heard word on where you might be holed up, I told 'em to head home and get some rest so we could hit you in the morning." She'd wanted a private word with the jerk, and definitely hadn't wanted anyone else seeing it if he _did_ best her again.

Which he had, and she'd been grateful nobody had witnessed it. Now she raged at her past self for being an idiot, because if she'd brought backup with her, at least those people would have been okay.

"Why would Talon do this?" Ashe shook her head, unable to wrap her brain around it. It felt like until she could understand the reason, none of it would feel real. "We're penny ante compared to them, and we ain't done them no wrong. It makes no _sense_."

Shimada glanced at her, then away. "We should look for survivors. If there are any, they need immediate help." 

He was avoiding the question, which meant he had a pretty good idea of the answer and knew she wouldn't like it. Ashe had a strong suspicion it had something to do with that crate McCree had stolen from her haul off the military train. Shimada was right about the survivors though, so Ashe shoved her seething rage aside and got to work.

Together they moved through the rubble, working in silence as they searched for bodies. Their search was successful in the most horrible way, as they turned up one dead gang member after another. Sometimes they weren't in one piece; sometimes it was hard to tell who the pieces belonged to. 

Ashe had to pause to throw up more than once. She'd thought she was a tough cookie, but this was more than she could handle. Eventually she simply went numb, as if everything was happening at a distance and none of it could possibly be real, an emotional cushion that she badly needed.

Shimada said nothing, neither judging nor absolving her. He worked without tiring, showing no signs of physical or emotional strain over the task. It was true that he hadn't known these people, so their deaths wouldn't affect him as badly, but it was clear he was used to this kind of carnage. And what did that say about the man?

Maybe Jesse's time working with the law hadn't been as bright and shiny as she'd pictured.

Rounding a corner, Ashe was brought up short by the sight of someone still alive, propped against a crate with one leg missing. Not one of her people; one of the mercenaries. The missing leg was cut straight through, the wound cauterized by some kind of energy weapon. That blade of Shimada's must be something darn powerful.

Looking up, the mercenary smiled, and it was not a friendly expression. "There you are, bitch. I've been waiting for you." His voice was strained with agony, and the look in his eyes said he knew he was a dead man walking. Or not walking, as the case might be.

"Watch your language." The retort was ingrained, automatic, after so many years scolding the gang. She cocked her gun, ready to shoot from the hip. At this range, she didn’t need a scope to blow his head to smithereens. But she wanted to hear what he had to say, find out why he’d attacked her people. 

He laughed, a horrible wet choking sound, and she realized he had a chest wound as well. A bullet shot; one of hers. "Better get used to it, slut. I imagine there'll be plenty of swearing in Hell."

He threw something at her, and the world seemed to slow down as adrenaline kicked in. For the second time in two weeks, Ashe saw a live grenade flying toward her and knew there was nothing she could do to stop or dodge it. When Jesse had thrown them, he'd aimed high and shot to set them off while they were still far enough not to badly hurt her.

This guy was aiming to kill, and his aim was good.

Once again Shimada saved her life by tackling her to the ground, shielding her with his metal body. The explosion of the grenade washed over them, and Ashe held her breath to prevent the fiery air from searing her lungs. Her feet and legs felt burned, but it was the way Shimada went limp on top of her that truly concerned her.

"Shimada?" Ashe coughed, and tried again louder. "Shimada? Hey, answer me! You okay?"

Nothing, and when she squirmed around enough to see his face, his eyes were closed. That metal body armour was _heavy_ ; it felt like she'd been thrown and pinned by a horse. Worse, the rubble beneath them was uneven and chunky, giving her no way to slide out from under him. Struggling as hard as she could, Ashe managed to get one arm and side of her chest free.

Then she discovered that his right hand was locked tight around her other arm, where he'd grabbed her as he tackled her. She couldn't pull any farther out from beneath him without prying his hand from her, and she couldn't _get_ at his hand to force it loose unless he rolled over. 

Frustrated - and more than a little scared - Ashe punched him in the left shoulder, the only flesh bit she could reach. Why the hell did he leave one arm uncovered, anyway? "Shimada! Wake up, dang it, you're trapping me!"

Nothing. She couldn't even tell if he was breathing. His throat was metal, so she couldn't check his pulse there, but when she fumbled for his left wrist she found the beat, steady and sure. He was alive, but it didn't seem like he was going to wake up any time soon. It looked like the guy who'd thrown the grenade had killed himself with the blast as well, but there might be others still alive out there. Or reinforcements arriving any time.

That thought was enough to tip fear into being her dominant emotion, and Ashe heaved as hard as she could at his shoulder, trying to turn him over. She couldn't get any leverage from this position. Just as panic was starting to truly set in, a pair of massive metal hands reached over her shoulder and picked Shimada up off her.

Ashe would know those hands anywhere. As a little girl, they'd tucked her in at night, bandaged endless scraped knees and elbows, and given her the only hugs and affection she'd known. "Bob!" She'd never been so glad to see the oversized omnic, and that was saying something. "Oh thank goodness, you're all right. Were you inside? Is anyone else still alive?"

People said omnics had no expressions, but they just hadn't learned to read the light cues and body language. Bob might not be able to talk, but he was plenty expressive. He looked sad, and shook his head, pointing toward the opposite end of the warehouse. He must have been out in the town, maybe looking for her. 

At least he was okay. No matter how bad things got, Ashe knew she could handle it if Bob was by her side, but losing him would destroy her. Gritting her teeth, she set to prying Shimada's hand off her arm, now that she could get at it.

Bob tried to help, but his fingers were too big to be able to grip Shimada's without grabbing her arm as well. Finally Ashe managed to get free, and knelt beside the injured man.

The guy was in even worse shape than she'd thought. His whole left leg was _gone_ , blown to bits. The end of his thigh was a sparking mess of electronics, so it had been cybernetic, at least. Which begged the question of the rest of his metal limbs. Surely they couldn't _all_ be cybernetics. Nobody could survive that kind of damage. 

Common sense told Ashe to walk away. Those reinforcements could still be coming. Even if Talon didn't make another strike, word would get out fast that the Rebels were all but destroyed, and the bloodsuckers would pour in, looking for loot. Gangs who'd been perfectly happy to ally with her when she was in a position of strength would kill her now without a second thought, to steal her territory and resources. 

She needed to get out of Deadlock, find a safe place to hole up in and lick her wounds, and see what she could do about regrouping. _Some_ of the gang was still out there, running various jobs or just sleeping someplace other than the hideout. Hopefully, enough to hold the sharks at bay, if she could convince them not to scatter instead.

Shimada was nobody to her. Less than nobody - he'd come into her territory, searching for McCree, and he was a goody-two-shoes lawman. She owed him nothing.

Except, that wasn't true. He'd saved her life _twice_ in this fight, and gotten himself injured doing it. Nobody had made him run in to try to help like a hero, but she still felt she owed him a debt. "Pick him up," she told Bob. "We're bringing him with us." He might die anyway, but it wouldn't be her fault if he did.

Now she just had to hope they'd _all_ survive, if Talon was still hunting them.


	4. Chapter 4

Struggling his way out of sleep seemed _far_ too difficult to manage. Usually Genji woke quickly and easily, but it felt like his brain was stuffed full of wool and the neurons couldn't fire. Agony ripped at the edges of his awareness, promising a world of pain if he did become properly conscious of it, and he wanted nothing more than to cling to the blackness. But something was beeping frantically, demanding his attention and refusing to let him rest.

Somehow, he forced his sluggish brain to function. The beeping was a sensor alert for his cybernetic body - actually there were several of them going off, all warning him about catastrophic damage or potential system failures. That realization _should_ have jolted him fully alert, but it still felt like he was swimming through mental quicksand.

One particular high pitched tone... shit, that was the alert that his air system wasn't functioning. He was suffering hypoxia, no wonder he couldn't string two thoughts together. Genji tried to move his right hand to pull the mask off, but it wouldn't obey his command. Groaning, he forced the left one up instead, fumbling with the face covering.

"Hey now, stay still," a feminine voice commanded, sharp and stern. "You're hurt bad, you shouldn't ought to be movin' around."

"Off," Genji mumbled, but the word came out slurred and unintelligible. He tried again, more urgent. " _Off_. Mask."

"Thought you said you needed that thing to breathe?" Despite the protest, she ran her fingers over the smooth metal, searching for the tiny catches that held it in place. By the time she found them, oblivion was threatening to suck him back down despite the shrieking alarms piped directly into his brain. 

Then the mask lifted away, and blessed oxygen rushed in. Gasping in great gulps, Genji fought the urge to cough, knowing it would expel more air than it drew in and make the situation worse. Instead he concentrated on taking breaths as deep as he could, slowly so as not to trigger the cough reflex, even though his lungs were begging for him to pant rapidly.

The air system warning had shut off now that he'd opened the mask, though there were still other alerts and alarms. His oxygen supply must have been ruptured and leaking slowly, or he’d have suffocated long before he regained consciousness. The failsafe meant to release the mask upon interruption of airflow hadn’t engaged, perhaps damaged as well.

Finally he managed to force open his eyes, to see the white-haired woman from the bar hovering over him. Ashe. McCree's former friend. Why would she be... oh, right. The bomb at her hideout, and then the grenade. Genji had thought he'd be able to absorb the worst of the damage, but the explosion had been much larger than he'd expected. It must have been a pulse grenade, high tech and very expensive, not to mention powerful.

Genji struggled to sit up, but his body didn't want to obey him. Agony burned through him, cybernetic nerve connections all screaming at once in a way that overloaded his sensory system.

"Easy there, sugar." Ashe pushed against his shoulders, keeping him down without much effort. "You're hurt pretty bad. 'Fraid you're missing a leg."

"That's... not news," Genji wheezed out a grim laugh. "Technically, I'm missing two. I need to assess the damage."

"So they're both cybernetic?" Ashe shook her head, and looked mildly impressed. "What about the arm?"

"Yes." Genji made a fist with his right hand, glad when it obeyed him this time. It was still functioning, it was only that the cybernetics were having difficulty interpreting the input from his nerves when his brain was so dazed. "Help me up."

Though she clearly thought it was a bad idea, Ashe helped him to sit and braced him against the wall. He was lying in a bed with an old, creaky frame and lumpy mattress, in a dusty room with faded wallpaper and the air of a place that hadn’t been occupied in years.

Any curiosity about where he might be was lost as soon as he saw the mangled mess of his left leg. Genji winced. No wonder the nerve feedback sensors were all screaming at him. "Fuck."

"Language," Ashe scolded. Who would have thought a close friend of McCree's would care about swearing?

"Sorry." Genji shook his head. "Any chance you've got a multitool and a mirror handy? I need to shut off the nerve connections. And the damn alarms."

This time she only gave him a look instead of a scolding for swearing, but the look said volumes. "What alarms?"

"They're in my head." Every time Genji tried to shift position to get a better look at the damage, a new wave of agony swept through him. "Wired straight into my aural receptors so I can't ignore them or sleep through them - like the one warning me I had no airflow and was suffocating."

"Huh." Ashe seemed intrigued, but to his surprise, she showed none of the pity or horror that most people did, upon understanding _how_ far from human he was. Especially if they got a look at his ravaged face. Genji might have accepted that his cybernetics didn't make him a monster, but that didn't mean the rest of humanity always agreed with him. "Never seen anything like you."

"And you never will again." Genji closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wall, gritting his teeth as he rode out another wave of pain. "Tool? Please?"

Without further comment she fetched the requested multitool and a hand mirror. The tool was primitive compared to the highly advanced equipment normally used on Genji's cybernetics, but this was far from an ideal circumstance. It would be enough to disconnect the nerves to his badly damaged leg, and shut off the alerts.

Except when he took the tool, his hand was shaking badly. He was flexible enough to reach his spine, but it would be a strain and make him shake further. Manipulating the nerve connections required a _very_ steady hand and light touch, or he could do far more damage than good. "K'so."

"Got a funny feelin' that's you tryin' to get around my language restriction," Ashe said dryly. "I know my way around omnic repair basics, and even some of the advanced stuff. Can I help?"

Warily, Genji considered whether he could trust her enough to be that vulnerable. Then again, he was pretty damn vulnerable already, missing a leg and unable to do much through the pain. She'd brought him with her, not left him to die. That would have to be good enough, because it wasn't like he had any options. "Give me the mirror and I'll talk you through it."

It was awkward to hold the mirror so he could see what she was doing, but he managed. Carefully, he walked her through opening the access plates to the exoskeleton artificial 'spine' that held all the numerous cybernetic connections wired into his brain stem. The damage to his own spine had been bad enough that Mercy was forced to bypass it, rather than connecting the limbs to the appropriate place in the spinal cord as with most cybernetics.

Ashe whistled when she got the plate open and saw his back. He assumed she was reacting to the cutting edge technology, until she commented, "That's some serious ink you got under there. How many hours did that take? Shame you have to cover it up. Wish I could see all of it."

Within Genji, Raijin gave his cooing version of a purr, pleased to be noticed and admired. He resented being eternally hidden. Genji sighed with regret. "I wanted to walk more than I wanted to be able to show him off." _That_ had been an epic battle of wills, but Genji prevailed in the end, convincing Raijin it was necessary. He didn't answer the question about how long the 'tattoo' had taken. 

"Him?" Ashe repeated, amused. 

"My dragon." Let her assume he simply meant the stylized image on his back. Most people couldn't accept the truth, even the ones who had seen Raijin for themselves.

She traced one long nail over the snaking form of the dragon, and Genji fought against a shudder at the intensity of the sensation. That skin wasn't accustomed to direct stimulation anymore, and Raijin was twisting within him in pleasure at being stroked, so it had a double impact. This time it wasn't only pain that made him breathless as he spoke. "Let's keep working."

It took long, grinding minutes for him to direct her to first find, then access the correct section of his 'spine', but finally she located the correct switch and the input from his left leg cut out entirely. Panting with relief more than the need for oxygen, Genji slumped sideways against the headboard. " _Thank_ you."

Without the screaming overload from the damaged limb, the rest of his system would eventually settle back into the normal, bearable levels of pain. He wasn't going to be fighting or walking anywhere until he could get it replaced, which meant going to either Gibraltar or Nepal. Both were rather out of his reach at the moment. 

He'd have called Tracer for extraction, but among his damaged systems were the long-range encryption capabilities built into his comms. That meant he needed to find or build a system capable of the high-tech encryption required to connect to the super-secret, supposedly defunct Overwatch frequency. 

Or finish his mission and find McCree, who had his own way to contact Gibraltar. Both possibilities were looking about equally likely, at the moment. Though perhaps Ashe would be feeling a bit more generous about giving him the information, now that he'd saved her life and been injured for his trouble. "I need you to tell me anything you know about where McCree might be. It's now become imperative that I find him, instead of merely desirable."

Ashe helped him shift position so he had his back to the headboard again, then came to perch on the side of the bed in front of him, so she could look him in the eyes. "How 'bout we play a little tit for tat?" she suggested. Her voice was mild, conversational, but the gleam in her red eyes warned that this was a dangerous mood. "Tell me why on God's green earth Talon would have attacked my gang, and don’t avoid the question this time."

Genji hesitated, but she did have a right to know. Talon had destroyed everything she'd spent her life building, and killed people who were presumably her friends. "There are two possibilities that come to mind. One, they were following the same rumour I was, that McCree had been sighted here and might still be with you. Two, they were following the same rumour McCree had, that Echo was on that train, and they believed you might still have her."

"Her?" Ashe's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That thing in the high-tech container was an omnic?"

"Highly experimental and cutting edge, one of a kind," Genji confirmed. "Even now, years after she was built, there is no other like her. She's also a part of that chosen family McCree and I both belong to, but she was claimed as 'military property' when Overwatch shut down." 

It was one of the reasons _he'd_ fled, afraid that he too might be classified as 'property', considering the amount of money that had been poured into rebuilding him as one of Overwatch's greatest weapons. At the time, he'd thought of himself as inhuman, and assumed greedy politicians would do the same.

He still believed the latter was probably true.

Ashe's eyes softened. "Good on you for acknowledging an omnic as family," she said, and there was a definite note of affection in her voice. "Too many folks don't, or won't. The first thing I ever 'stole' worth enough to be a felony was Bob. As if he wasn't his own person, and couldn't choose to come with me when I left my family. It's horse pucky. Thankfully, he was out and about when the explosion hit, so he's okay. He's standing watch right now, and nothin' will get past him. We're safe enough for the moment."

Relieved to know someone was on guard, Genji nodded. "I am glad one of your family survived."

Her smile turned sharp again. "One of 'em. Haven’t been able to reach anyone else. They’re either dead, or scattered to the winds to avoid the fights that are coming as the other gangs take over our territory. Most will get absorbed into some other gang, but nobody's gonna take me. So here I am, just me and Bob, and a desire for revenge. If what you're sayin' is true, then McCree's to blame for my troubles - even if they weren't chasing him directly, he's the one who tipped us off 'bout that train, so we'd never have been in Talon's line of fire if not for that."

Genji tensed. If she was going to misplace her blame on McCree, that might well transfer to blame on Genji as well. Or at least, he might make a convenient and immediate target for her revenge. "Place the blame where it belongs, Ashe. McCree is not in control of Talon's actions. They are the ones who did this to you."

"Oh, I fully intend to have a word or two with them about that, don't you worry that pretty little head of yours." Her expression was all too recognizable to Genji. He'd seen it many times in the mirror, that look of all-consuming hatred as he burned with the need for revenge on his brother, thinking vengeance was all he had left to live for.

In his case, he'd been ignoring the second chance at life and all the possibilities of his new existence in Overwatch, too focused on his rage and pain to accept anything more. For Ashe, it seemed there truly was nothing else. He hated to see her eaten alive by revenge as he had been, but it wasn't as if he could offer her something better.

He could, at least, offer what help he was capable of. Even if that didn't amount to much, at the moment. "I strongly suspect they have captured McCree, and that's why he went radio-silent on us. It's possible they tortured him to get the information that your gang were the ones who stole Echo from the supply train."

She'd been willing to hunt _him_ down and face him a second time, thinking that Genji was a threat to McCree, no matter how angry she was with her former brother-in-arms. Maybe she'd react the same to the knowledge that Talon was likely hurting him, too. It seemed to be a case of 'Me against my brother; my brother and I against the world'.

Sure enough, her eyes blazed with new determination. "All the more reason to take those rat bastards down."

Genji couldn't resist a small, teasing smile. "Such language."

The mock scolding startled her into a chuckle. "Some things deserve the strong words," she admitted. "But they have a lot more impact if you save 'em up for the big stuff. Don't suppose you can contact those friends of yours who'd want to save McCree, too? We could use the backup."

"Not unless you happen to have a military-grade communications unit with up to date encryption protocols." Genji grimaced. "McCree is now my best bet for contacting the others, short of physically travelling halfway around the world to get to them."

"Used to have one, as a matter of fact," she said with a sour smile. "But it’s in itty-bitty pieces right now. Guess it's you, me, and Bob, then. We'll see what we can do 'bout getting you a leg. Won't be near as fancy as your old one, but hopefully it'll do the job."

Genji's spirits rose. Even a shitty leg would be better than none at all. It would severely curtail his ability to fight, but he could manage. "Then we are allies, for the duration."

"Allies," she agreed, and held out her hand. They shook on it solemnly, and Genji saw her shoulders slump, ever so slightly. She was relieved not to be alone in this mess, even if he wasn't her ideal companion.

Truth be told, so was he.


	5. Chapter 5

It took three days for Ashe to make enough connections and call in enough favours to find a back alley doc willing to sell her the parts needed for a crappy but functional cybernetic leg. Maybe she ought to be saving those favours, considering her bleak future prospects at the moment, but she burned with the need for revenge on Talon.

Genji Shimada was her best chance of getting that revenge, and she needed him in something approaching fighting form to do it. He had the inside intel about Talon, knew where to look and what they might be facing. Plus he clearly had plenty of experience going up against them, and he was the only person as motivated as she was to get McCree back from them. 

So she used up the favours willy-nilly, and finally got what they needed. As she hauled the parts back to the old farmhouse where she'd hightailed it with Shimada, she marvelled once again at the extent of his cyberization. She'd made a casual comment to the mech doc who sold her the bits, asking how many limbs a person could replace. He'd insisted it was no more than two, especially if the replacement was above the knee or elbow. Apparently, the pain levels of anything more were unbearable.

Shimada was nothing if not stubborn and determined, she'd give him that. If he hadn't been a lawman, Ashe would have recruited him so fast, his head would spin, because he was exactly the kind of person she wanted in her gang. Strong, deadly, but with a certain level of principle that kept him from being nothing but a lout and a bully.

Of course, it was those principles that had probably made him join Overwatch. There was a reason Ashe had trouble finding criminals who'd stick to her code of behaviour.

She greeted Bob as she passed the big omnic, set up on the porch of the ancient, abandoned ranch house. He'd see anybody coming up the winding drive long before they saw him. He didn't need sleep or food or breaks, so he was the perfect look-out. She made sure to spend time with him each day so he wouldn't get lonely, but he insisted he didn't mind pulling all the shifts.

Inside the house, she heard a quiet murmur from the ground floor bedroom that had become Shimada's. Frowning, Ashe paused, listening hard. There was nobody he should be talking to, but that was definitely his voice, though she couldn't understand the words. The tone was affectionate, like one might speak to a child or favoured pet. 

"Who the heck are you talkin' to?" she demanded, barging in. There was a bright flash of green light from his suit - body, whatever - and he looked up, surprised. Usually she knocked first before coming in, giving him the respect and decency she'd expect for herself.

He was alone in the room, no sign of a phone, but she suspected the fancy gadgets replacing his ears held communications equipment. Ashe narrowed her eyes, dumping the bag of parts on the floor and planting her hands on her hips. "I thought you said you couldn't contact any of your friends, hmm? You talkin' to McCree behind my back, after all?"

"I told you the truth," he replied, calm and casual. "There is no way for me to reach the others. I was speaking to Raijin, my dragon. He is concerned and upset that I'm so damaged. It reminds him too much of how I suffered when I was first injured so badly."

"Your... dragon." Ashe's brow furrowed. He'd seemed sane prior to this, but now she wondered if the pain was addling his brain. Or maybe there had been damage to his skull in the explosion, but no symptoms until now. "You're talking to your tattoo?"

His lips curved in a smile. The scarring pulled at it, warping it out of shape, but it was still identifiable as both amused and mocking. "The markings on my back are symbolic. Raijin is real. But I don't expect you to believe me. Nobody ever does, until they see him for themselves. Often not even then."

"Yeah?" She pointedly scanned the very empty room. "Where is he, then? Let's see him."

"He is too wary of you to come out." Shimada shrugged. "He doesn't trust you. If you prefer, think of him as a minor delusion that doesn't interfere with my ability to function on a day-to-day basis. That is the conclusion the Overwatch psychiatrists reached, and they cleared me for full duty regardless."

It was somewhat reassuring that this wasn't a new development, though Ashe was disturbed to know the man was loco. Then again, plenty of people she'd worked with held some weird beliefs. Was believing in your imaginary friend past childhood any worse than believing the world was flat, against all arguments and evidence?

If Overwatch had concluded he was fit for duty, it was probably safe for her to do the same. Assuming he was telling the truth about that part, but it wasn't as if she had a lot of choice. Allies were thin on the ground for Ashe at the moment.

"I got the parts we need," she said, scooping up the bag. "Fetched that helmet and the rest of your armour from your room at the Cave-Inn, while I was at it. Any luck tinkering with your air system?"

"No." He grimaced. "I can't exert myself too hard until I get it running again, or I'll pass out from lack of oxygen. Thankfully my lungs have healed a great deal over time; when I first was injured, I wouldn't have been able to survive this long without the mask."

"What the heck can do that kind of damage to a man, anyway?" Ashe had never seen anything like it. The burns on the visible portions of his body seemed to be from an energy weapon, but not one she recognized. "How in tarnation did you survive?"

"Sheer stubborn willpower, according to the doctor who saved me." He gave her his warped smile again, but she sensed this one would have been crooked even without the scars. "Overwatch built me the body, and they got their money's worth. I was the best stealth and recon specialist they ever had. As for what caused the damage in the first place... my brother turned his dragons on me. I didn't summon Raijin in time to deflect them, because I did not believe he would truly go through with the attack."

More dragon talk. This time she wasn't sure if he was being serious, or teasing her. "If it's classified or you don't wanna talk about it, you can just tell me so," she retorted, rolling her eyes. He shrugged again, uncaring that she didn't believe him. Then again, if this was his normal response to the question of how he was injured, he was probably very used to people being skeptical.

"Let's get the leg attached," he suggested, sidestepping the issue. "I am looking forward to getting out of this bed without needing to hop around."

No doubt. Ashe had seen for herself that being forced into inactivity sat badly with him, and she couldn't blame him. She'd be restless and uncomfortable with the vulnerability, too. "I bet you were the _worst_ patient," she teased, as she hauled the bag over to the bed. "Always rushing your recovery."

"Angela threatened to tie me down more than once," Shimada agreed with genuine amusement. "She even had restraints installed, the kind used in the mental health ward, as a pointed reminder. She never _quite_ lost patience enough to use them, though I believe she fantasized about it on several occasions."

The way he spoke of this Angela woman - presumably his doctor - was softly affectionate, much the way he'd sounded when talking to his supposed dragon. "Girlfriend?" Ashe asked. "You sound mighty fond of her."

He shook his head. "I don't think Angela would ever date a patient, but more importantly, I was in no fit mental state to be interested in romance at the time. I was consumed by the need for vengeance against my brother, and convinced that I was an inhuman abomination. I no longer believe that, but I'm also realistic. She might be the one person in the world truly capable of looking past the scars and cybernetics to see _me_ beneath, but I value her friendship far too much to pursue any possibility of more."

"Inhuman abomination?" Ashe repeated. "Those are some strong words. You one of those folk that believe cybernetics are against God or something?"

"No, although my family was very traditional and looked down on those who were careless enough to lose a limb in the first place, and thus thought less of those who had cybernetic replacements." Shimada shrugged. "I, however, am literally more machine than man, and what human parts remain are badly damaged. Certainly, I no longer qualify as the 'charming brother'." 

His tone was light, joking, but Ashe sensed this was a sore spot for him. Maybe he didn't believe he was an abomination any more, but he clearly believed he was unattractive. She give him an up-and-down assessment, and saw no reason to change her original judgement; he was hot as the desert on a sunny summer day. 

Okay, most of the muscles were built in, but the ones on his left arm sure weren't. He moved like smoke and fire when he fought, untouchable but devastating. Yeah, his face was scarred to the point where some might find it uncomfortable to look at him. But being raised by Bob had taught Ashe to look much deeper than the surface to see what a person was truly made of.

"You missin' any of the important bits?" she asked, with a pointed look at the metal plate covering his groin. 

"Why do people think it's okay to ask me that?" Shimada grumbled, a flush riding his cheeks that was rather adorable. The scarring caused an odd effect, stripes of lighter and darker red through skin nearly as pale as hers from lack of sunlight.

He looked grumpy about the inappropriate question, but not bitter or traumatized, so Ashe was guessing the answer was 'no'. Surely no guy would ever suffer _that_ loss without a lingering sourness when asked about it.

"Well then, darlin'." Ashe gave him a slow, seductive smile. "If you weren't a lawman, I'd sure as sugar be jumping on that. And I assure you, my standards are quite high."

Jerking his gaze away from hers, he growled. "I'm guessing if I ask you not to tease about that, you'll only be gleeful at having found a sore spot?" 

He wasn't wrong; she did like to poke at people's buttons, and she never had shied away from awkward subjects. But if he thought she was mocking him, he really was attached to this idea that nobody would find him attractive. "I think you're delusional about more than your dragon. Too bad you _are_ a lawman, or I'd prove you wrong."

Shimada snorted. "I may have worked for Overwatch, but I'm about as far from a 'lawman' as can be. I am the scion of a Yakuza clan, and was Blackwatch’s top assassin. More than one person has declared my moral compass to be broken. I have honour, but the honour of a ninja is very different from that of a samurai."

Now that was intriguing. After seeing him fight, Ashe could almost believe the ninja part. Certainly she'd heard of the Yakuza in her underground dealings, and they were nobody to be trifled with. And this guy had been Jesse's teammate... maybe her wayward blood-brother hadn't gone quite as straight and narrow as she'd thought.

Shimada was skittish as an untamed mustang, though. Approach too fast, and he'd bolt. Bringing him to hand could be an interesting challenge, and certainly a better use of her time than constantly brooding over the loss of the gang, but she had to go slow. "Well, lawman or not, you'll feel a lot better with this leg on. So let's get to it."

They'd already cleaned out all of the damaged bits of his left leg, prepping it to be joined with the new parts as best they could. It was 'simply' a matter of connecting the nerve leads from his body to the ones in the new leg. 

Of course, there were a fraction as many sensors in the new leg, and Ashe had no technical manual telling her which circuits had attached to where in his old system. If she connected things wrong, he'd be bending his knee every time he tried to flex his foot, and have to learn to walk all over again.

"We'll have to turn the nerves back on so you can tell me what something is supposed to connect to," she concluded reluctantly. She'd seen how much pain he was in until they got the nerves turned off in the first place; granted there weren't all the damaged endings creating feedback loops now, but it would be highly unpleasant.

Shimada didn't even hesitate, just nodded. "Do it."

Ashe found the switches he'd talked her through before, and flipped them. Immediately he hissed, a strangled sound like he was trying to muffle it and couldn't manage. His fists clenched in the sheets, hard enough that the worn cotton threatened to tear under his grip. 

As quickly as she could, Ashe started testing connections and lining them up with the new leg. While she worked, she talked, hoping to distract him from some measure of agony. "You never did tell me what tales McCree was spinning about me. All that horse pucky about me being brilliant or whatever, I know he said more than that. What whoppers did he tell?"

Eyes closed, Shimada leaned his head back against the wall, his chest rising and falling in rapid, jerky motions. When he answered, his voice was rough with pain, and his accent heavier than usual. "Honestly, I didn't hear much. He only talked about you when he was very drunk, and I mostly avoided him in that state."

Miffed, Ashe tossed her head to get her hair out of her eyes. "Is that so. Couldn't face the thought of me unless he had enough liquid courage in him, hmm? Explains why he never bothered to so much as send me a letter to tell me he was okay."

"He was afraid of bringing the wrong kind of attention your way," Genji said, fists clenching impossibly tighter as she made the first connection. "Both of us were heavily scrutinized, because of our criminal backgrounds and the unorthodox way we each joined Blackwatch. He swore up and down that the Deadlock Gang had disbanded when he left, so that Overwatch wouldn’t keep their attention on this area. But when he was drunk enough, he forgot to hold his tongue, and you were often the first topic on his mind."

Ashe paused, hands hovering over the cybernetics, staring at the wires without really seeing them. Jesse hadn't contacted her because he was _covering_ for her? Protecting the freedom he knew she’d worked so damn hard to achieve?

That... made a lot more sense than the idea that he'd moved on to bigger and better things and forgotten about her, actually. 

All these years, she'd been so _pissed_ that he never reached out. When he'd come wandering back into Deadlock, right after the fall of Overwatch, she'd sent him packing with a bullet chasing him out the door, too outraged over his betrayal to bother hearing whatever excuses he tried to make about why he'd stayed away. Perhaps she'd been a mite hasty in her reaction.

Shimada hissed again, and Ashe remembered she was supposed to be focusing. Dragging her attention back to the job, she kept making connections, trying not to let her hands shake or the tool slip from sweat. She'd never seen _anything_ like his cybernetics, and suspected she never would again. 

Finally she'd connected everything she could, though there was still plenty left dangling inside. She coated the wire ends with liquid plastic she’d also picked up, hopefully preventing them from continuing to make contact and short out.

"How's that?" she asked, brushing her hair out of her face yet again. It always got everywhere when she didn't wear her hat, but the brim would have shaded her hands and kept her from seeing what she was doing.

"Better," he said, cautiously flexing his foot. The movement was jerky, but it obeyed his commands, and that was what mattered. "It will take some time for me to adjust, but this is far more than I could have hoped for without your help. Thank you."

"We're even steven," she told him, daring him to say otherwise. "You saved my life, I got you mobile again. I don't owe you nothing."

He smiled, a surprisingly sweet expression now that she was used to ignoring the pull of the scars turning it into a sneer. "You owed me nothing to start with, so I suppose that puts me in your debt, instead."

"Careful, sugar," she warned him, matching his smile with a smirk of her own. "You say things like that, I'm gonna hold you to it. And I don't let debts go unpaid."

"I would expect nothing else." He dipped his head in a solemn little bow, but his lips were still curved. "Help me up. I want to test the range of motion."

"And stop going stir-crazy in that bed," she finished for him, and he chuckled.

"That, too," he agreed. He held out his left hand, and she took it in hers, backing away so she could pull him to his feet.

He wasn't tall, five foot seven or so. She'd missed that somehow, before. It meant she was looking down on him, which wasn't unheard of for her, but it _felt_ like he should be bigger. Maybe it was just his presence, or the sense of coiled power he carried with him. His hand was warm in hers, solid with muscle and rough with callus, and his palm dwarfed hers despite their difference in heights.

Unsurprisingly, he stumbled as he first stood up, left leg not yet calibrated to the signals from his brain. She caught him with an arm around the waist, though his weight made it a strain to hold him upright until he found his balance again. His hands came to her hips to steady himself, and suddenly they were face to face in what amounted to an embrace.

He realized it at the same time she did; his eyes went wide, and he flushed those pretty pink stripes again. She wondered if he'd gotten out of the habit of hiding his expressions because the mask did it for him, or if he'd always been this open about his feelings. Shimada opened his mouth, probably to apologize or some such.

Ashe stopped the words by the simple expedient of slanting her mouth across his, kissing him hard. With a groan, he responded in kind, tongue pushing against hers as they struggled for dominance. It was the best kind of fight, the sort nobody really wanted to win, because the battle itself was the fun part. His right hand cinched tight around her waist, pulling her against his body, while his left drifted up to fist in her hair. 

He knew what he was doing, that was for sure. He didn't attack head on, but was sneaky about it, using little nips and sucks on her lips to entice, coaxing her to open wider for him. That tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, seeking out places she hadn't even known were hot spots, like the inside of her lower lip. The scarring was rough on her softer skin, an additional source of stimulation that was nothing but pleasure.

Shimada's chest heaved against hers, his breathing far too rapid and short through his nose, and finally he broke away with a gasp to get more air. When his eyes met hers, he looked dazed - and mortified. "Shit, I'm sorry," he blurted out, releasing his grip on her hair and trying to pull away. "I don't know what came over me."

This time she didn't scold him for language, just gave him a lazy, cat-in-cream smile and refused to let him back off. "Now, why on earth would you be apologizin' for that display of prowess? I'm impressed. Thought maybe you'd be a blushing virgin, but you've got a trick or two up your sleeve."

"Definitely not a virgin," he confirmed, wrinkling his nose. "Just... out of practice. I still shouldn't have done that, especially after you said you _weren't_ interested."

Astonished, Ashe realized he thought _he'd_ kissed _her_. Which meant he'd leaned in at the same time she had, just as impulsive, just as needy. Maybe he wouldn't be as hard to tame to saddle as she'd thought. 

"Sugar, I said I wasn't interested in a lawman," she reminded him, her smug tone one short step from a purr. "Then you insisted you weren't a lawman. So where does that leave us?"

Reaching up, she swiped her thumb over his lower lip before he could answer. His breath caught, and his pupils blew out wide, subtly increasing that demonic red light they had. He was so incredibly responsive, which made sense if he hadn't let himself be touched for however many years since this damage had happened. It made him awful fun to play with.

"Lipstick," she explained, smile as innocent as she could make it. "You look nice with red lips and all, but it seemed rude to leave it there without you knowin'." There was nothing on his lips; her lipstick was the makeup equivalent of bulletproof. She just liked touching him, and seeing his reactions. "Now, c'mon. Let's put you through your paces and see where you're at. The sooner you're back in fighting form, the sooner we can go after Talon."

For the first time, there was a little part of her that hoped it would take him a while to acclimatize. Once this was all over, he would leave, and she'd likely never see him again. Ashe hoped they'd get to have some fun, before then.


	6. Chapter 6

Genji had never met anyone who left him as off-balance and bewildered as Elizabeth Ashe. She was a confusing mixture of traits, bad and good, hard to predict and harder to understand. She was sly and sneaky, brilliant and beautiful, clever and cunning. He began to comprehend why McCree always said no description could do her justice. 

Ashe clearly liked to keep him guessing, and sometimes it felt like Genji didn't know whether he was coming or going around her. She had trust issues a mile wide, which he couldn't blame her for, yet she seemed to take it as a challenge to get under his skin at every opportunity.

That kiss, for example. Even hours later, he got hard thinking about the luscious taste of her mouth, the way she'd melted against him and met him push for push, the little breathless moan she'd made. Then she'd been purely professional for the rest of the afternoon, all but giving him the cold shoulder... except for the sidelong glances she kept sliding his way, full of heat and speculation.

The English phrase 'undressing someone with your eyes' had always seemed nonsensical to Genji, but now he understood it. That was exactly what it felt like she was doing: imagining him undressed, and what she would do to his body if he was.

Except, of course, she had no real idea what lay beneath his metal carapace. Genji no longer believed he was inhuman, an abomination, but he also held no illusions about how attractive a prospect he was these days. And yet, she'd seen his face and never once flinched from the vicious scars that twisted his features, hadn't blinked at discovering how extensive the list of his missing and damaged parts was. 

Ashe was also one of the rare people he'd met who _truly_ viewed her omnic companion Bob as a person, not a machine with a programmed facsimile of a personality. Maybe, just maybe, she would be capable of seeing past the surface damage and desiring Genji.

The question was whether he had the courage to bare himself to her, and find out.

That night, after a frustrating day of trying to acclimatize himself to the new leg well enough to fight, Ashe dropped another bombshell on him. She looked him up and down with a sly smirk, and suggested, "What say we play a little poker to fill the evening? Since we ain’t got nothing to bet, let's make it interesting and do the strip version."

Staring at her, Genji tried to decide if she was being serious, or taunting him. "What am I supposed to do if I lose a round, start removing body parts?"

Ashe laughed, a bright sound that he'd grown fond of in the last few days. "Why don't you wear clothes in the first darn place? Walkin' around naked all the time, honestly."

"I'm not naked, I'm in a suit of armour, effectively," he replied. He'd had this argument many times over the years. "The sensory input from the 'skin' becomes aggravating if there's too much constant feedback, like from clothes brushing against it. I only wear them when I have to, trying to be less noticeable, like in the bar."

"Yeah, you failed at that one," she snorted. "Hate to break it to you, but between the glowing feet, metal hand, and weird medical mask, you still stood out like an unhammered nail. Why not wear boots and gloves?"

In answer, he flipped three shuriken up out of their storage compartment, settling them between his fingers as if to throw them. "I couldn't bring my swords with me, and I didn't want to be completely unarmed if something happened. Gloves would prevent me from accessing the shuriken. Likewise, boots would make it more difficult to wallclimb, and that’s how I got out without alerting your gang."

"Huh. Didn't get a good look, last time you brought those out. Too busy trying not to lose my fingers when you pinned my gun to the wall." Taking his right hand in both of hers, she turned it this way and that, studying the mechanism. 

He let her, amused by her fascination... and, if he was being honest, enjoying the warmth of her small hands against his. His hand - and especially the fingers - had as many sensors in that area as the rest of his cybernetic body combined. He liked the way she skimmed her fingertips over it, tracing the plate edges. The light, teasing touch made his breath catch in his artificial throat, and Genji was glad he no longer had a shiver reflex to give away the intensity of his reaction.

Though, judging by the sly gleam in her eyes, she'd noticed anyway. She grinned when she saw him looking at her sideways. "Guess you've got feeling in the hand, then?" she asked, seemingly innocent as she stroked her fingertips over his palm.

"I would not be able to hold anything otherwise, let alone use my swords or shuriken," Genji replied. He curled his fingers over hers, trapping them against his palm. "Angela worked many miracles in building me this body, and I am eternally grateful to her."

"Guess I'm grateful too, seein' as how I'd've died to that grenade if you hadn't been there," Ashe replied. "Heck, I'd have been in the hideout with everyone else when it blew up."

Given how insistent she'd been all along that she owed him nothing, Genji was surprised she'd point out that she _did_ in fact owe him her life. Perhaps it meant she was coming to trust that he wouldn’t somehow take advantage of her with the debt. "I am glad I was there, as well. It is only coincidence that I happened to arrive at the same time Talon tracked you down."

"Lucky me." She leaned in closer, tugging on his hand to make him lean in as well. At some point in the day she'd shed her jacket and tie, unbuttoning the top of her blouse in an attempt to relieve the stifling heat of the desert air. 

From this angle, Genji could easily see right down her cleavage, if he cared to. A decade ago, he'd have been leering at the first opportunity. Subtly, of course; it wouldn't have served his purposes to chase off potential prey by acting like an oaf, after all. Now, he kept his eyes on hers, not giving in to temptation, according her the respect she deserved.

Damn, he was _really_ tempted, though.

She laughed, startling him. "Look at you, all gentleman-like," she purred. "I'd be insulted if I couldn't see the effort you're making to keep your gaze up. It's rude to ogle when you ain't invited. But sometimes, sugar, you gotta learn to recognize the invitation."

"I..." Words failed him as she dropped his hand and stepped back, reaching up to flick another button on her shirt open. The neckline gaped, exposing the top curves of her sweetly rounded breasts, and a hint of lilac lace cupping the mounds. One more button, and the bra was visible, fabric so sheer he could see the pale peach colour of her nipples.

Genji couldn't tear his eyes away. She was gorgeous, brash and wanton and unashamed of her sexuality, silky pale hair framing her face and red eyes locked on him, watching his reaction. Her gaze dipped down, and she made a sound of exasperation. "Now, how's a girl s'posed to know if her seduction is working, when I can't see the tent in your pants?"

"It's..." Genji's voice came out broken and hoarse. He had to cough to clear his throat enough to speak, and even then he sounded husky. "It's working. But if your intention is to play strip poker, you're throwing away your advantage."

"Maybe I'm just trying to level the playing field. I ain't above cheating, but it don't feel like a real win if you haven't got any chance of beating me." Her smirk grew, as she undid the last button on the shirt and shrugged it off. "So how many bits _can_ you remove? What do I need to get down to?"

"Ashe..." Genji shook his head, struggling for words. "You will only be disappointed, if you get what you think you want."

"Oh, I doubt that very much." The purr was back, the smugly satisfied tone that made her voice flow like honey warmed by the desert sun. "Even if you _are_ missing important bits, which I'm guessin' you ain't, you still got a hand and tongue."

The thought of running his mouth over all that pale, pale skin, of burying his face in her pussy and tonguing her to climax, made Genji groan. As for anything more... he'd experienced no intimate touch in ten years, save for his own hand. Even that, he hadn't done much of. 

Perhaps sexual denial had been an unintentional form of self-flagellation, punishment for what he'd perceived as the repulsive state of his body. Though he'd moved past that mindset, constant pain and lack of sensation in much of his body meant it took a lot more to get him aroused than before, and he'd simply become accustomed to abstinence.

This was well past that increased threshold, and the solid metal of his groin plate was growing distinctly uncomfortable. If he _did_ agree to strip poker, Genji might well be tempted to lose the first hand on purpose so he could seek relief from the confinement. 

"I'm already out of most of what can be removed," he told her, gaze still locked on her full, proud breasts. "There's only the chest plate, groin piece, and lower body sheath. The rest is permanent."

He'd expected at least an instant of dismay as she understood the true extent of what he'd lost. But just as when he'd told her about the missing limbs, not even a flicker of pity crossed her expression. Her smirk only grew, pleased that she'd made him give her the information. "Three pieces, hmm? Well, all right, then. I can match that."

As he watched, breathless, she kicked her boots off, undid her belt buckle, and shimmied out of her pants to reveal more lilac lace. The wriggle of her hips as she peeled the tight denim off made his heart kick up a notch, and he bit back another moan. Beneath the lace he could see white curls, neatly trimmed with just enough left to be appealing, without getting in the way of his ability to taste her.

Maybe... maybe he dared to take her up on at least part of her offer. Ashe was right that there was nothing stopping him from pleasuring her with his mouth and hands. The desire to touch and taste was overwhelming, and while it would be a different kind of pain to deny himself more, Genji would happily drown in the sensations, and jerk off to the fantasies later.

Finally Ashe stood there in nothing but her panties, bra, and hat, with a bold smirk and a sly gleam in her eyes. She clearly knew exactly how badly she was teasing him, and enjoying every second of it. Well, so was he, despite the physical discomfort. It had been so long since Genji had played this sort of game, he'd forgotten that the lead-up could be as fun as the sex itself when done right.

"There we go," Ashe declared. "Three pieces each. Loser decides which piece gets removed."

"I'm not sure I want you to remove any of it," Genji admitted, this time unashamed of the hoarseness of his voice. "That's a perfect image, right there." 

The delicate lilac lace would have been hard to see against a normal Caucasian skin tone, but on her it looked bright against her unnaturally pale skin. Geisha would kill for her complexion, so flawless and white even without makeup to cover it. The hat should have looked silly and out of place, but it was so much a part of her, it only completed the picture.

It didn't hurt that she was posing, hand on her waist and hip cocked out, feet parted and chest thrust forward. She could grace the centerfold of any magazine, and put every other photo in it to shame.

"Well, now. You do know how to flatter a lady, when you put your mind to it." Her bold red lipstick drew attention to her mouth as she spoke, and Genji wanted very badly to kiss the little beauty mark beside her dimple. "Let's play."

He seriously considered asking to skip the cards, but it was all part of the game, the seduction. Besides, Ashe was probably expecting to be able to easily control the hands, but she had a surprise coming. Genji let a smile of his own curve his lips, feeling the scars tug at his skin. "All right. Let's play."

Ashe showed no signs of discomfort in her near-nudity as she sauntered toward the hall that led to the bedrooms. "Kitchen's too drafty," she declared. "And those wooden chairs ain't gonna do my poor backside any favours. We'll play in your room."

"Yes, I'm sure comfort is your only reason for choosing a bedroom," he murmured, amused by her blatant manipulation.

They settled onto his lumpy old mattress, him with one leg tucked under and his 'new' foot braced on the floor because the knee wouldn't bend right, her lounging against the pillows with her legs curled to one side, a deliberately sexy pose. It gave him a good view of those lace-covered curls, and the proud jut of her breasts, tight nipples pushing against the fabric.

Despite the languor in her posture, there was nothing lazy about the speed of her shuffling. She flipped the cards back and forth like a pro, and as he'd expected, she was stacking the deck with precision and subtlety. He'd seen McCree use the same tricks; their team's rules had been that it was a skill-based game, and deck manipulation was a skill, so anything went as long as you didn't get caught at it. 

Rather than calling McCree - or Reyes, for that matter - on their cardsharping, Genji had watched and absorbed. He was a quick study, and by the time things had fallen apart with Blackwatch, he'd been winning every hand he dealt and quite a few of the ones he hadn't.

Of course, Ashe didn't know that. Genji cleared his throat. "You know, I don't think I trust you to shuffle," he murmured. "I'm betting McCree taught you to play, and I always suspected he was stacking the deck. I want to deal."

She pouted in an exaggerated fashion. "You don't trust me? I'm hurt, sugar. Absolutely crushed." He said nothing, holding out his hand patiently, and finally she sighed and handed over the deck. "All right, fine. I'll have you know _I'm_ the one who taught _Jesse_. I've got my eye on you too, y'know."

Smiling back at her, Genji started shuffling, affecting a clumsy style, as if he wasn't very good at it. Not too bad, because that would raise her suspicion, but enough to make her drop her guard. Interestingly, he discovered that she'd been in the process of stacking it so that _he_ would win. Hoping to further entice him as she continued stripping down, perhaps.

With his ninja-trained reflexes and slight of hand abilities, Genji was faster at slipping cards where he wanted them than Ashe was. He also had the advantage of being able to see them in the dull reflection from his metal thigh, instead of needing to tilt them enough to get glimpses.

Though she watched his movements with a frown, Ashe didn't call him on the cheating. He dealt their hands, making certain hers was believably 'random'. She discarded exactly the cards he'd expected she would; he discarded and picked up two of his own.

Since there was no ability to bluff or increase bets, they simply laid their cards down... and Ashe stared at their identical hands. Each of them had a pair of tens, a pair of jacks, and a queen. "What in tarnation... I was _watching_ you."

Genji grinned and scooped up the cards, shuffling them back into the pack, not bothering to be clumsy this time. "You're a hundred years too early to beat me," he replied smugly. "Nice try at setting it up for me to win the first hand, though. I guess we're both losing something." 

He reached for the catches that held his chest plate on, pulling it off to reveal the scarred flesh beneath. The place where the cybernetic shell met what was left of his real skin had a deep, nasty burn along the edge, making it look as if the shell had melted its way onto his body. 

Once again, Ashe showed no signs of discomfort at the sight, her attention fixed on the swell of muscle and flat disc of his nipple. "Mmm," she purred, with every evidence of satisfaction. "Knew you'd be nice and muscled. Shame that pretty ink of yours doesn't come 'round the front, though. I'd like to see more of it."

Within him, Raijin stretched and preened, pleased that she found him attractive. The dragon was already quite fond of Ashe; her mercenary heart matched his. 

"My brother's dragon is on his left shoulder and arm. I wish now that I'd chosen mine to go there, as well," Genji admitted, with a mental apology to Raijin. "But I could not have known what was coming, and I didn't want to be the same as Hanzo." Even as a child, before things had gone truly sour between them as teenagers, Genji had always wanted to stand out from his brother.

"You could always get more done," she suggested. "I know a good artist." She gestured at her own arm, decorated with delicately shaded blackwork. 

Genji winced at Raijin's silent hiss of displeasure at the thought. "It doesn't work that way. I would only offend him. And it would not be the same."

"Ah, right. I forgot, he's real to you," Ashe laughed. Genji didn't bother arguing with her. People either believed, or they didn't. Most didn't. 

At least, not until they saw the raging green dragon surrounding the razor sharp edge of his blade. For many non-believers, it was the last thing they _ever_ saw. He devoutly hoped that would not be the event that caused Ashe to believe as well, if she insisted on trying to fight him over McCree.

For now, he set those worries aside for the future, and concentrated on the present. Living in the moment was a skill he'd developed among the Shambali. Genji didn't want to miss any detail of this because he was brooding about the past or the future. "You haven't paid your forfeit," he pointed out.

Smirking, she reached not for her hat as he'd expected, but for the catch at the front of her bra. The two halves fell away, allowing her generous breasts to spill free. They held a good shape, firm and high, but more natural now rather than artificially plumped up. Her nipples were slightly darker than her skin, the pink of light cherry blossoms. Genji couldn't take his eyes off her.

Ashe was clearly aware of that, because she shifted to best show off her assets. Holding out her hand, she raised an imperious eyebrow. "Gimme," she demanded. "If you're gonna cheat too, no reason I can't deal."

Chuckling, he handed over the deck. He'd wanted to establish that he was no easy mark, and he'd accomplished that. She'd be more subtle in her attempts at manipulation now. "Never let it be said that I denied a lady's request."

"Hmm?" Her smirk widened. "Now, that has some potential. But first, we play." She shuffled and dealt, and this time Genji had a harder time spotting her arranging the cards.

He'd expected her to pull the same trick as the first time, to make him win so he'd be further enticed as she removed the panties. Instead, when they laid down their hands, he laughed to see she'd copied him, and made it a draw. "Decided to end things quicker?"

"You might have been on to somethin'," she admitted. 

Hooking her thumbs over the edge of her panties, she arched her hips off the bed so she could ease the fabric down over her legs. She went slowly, teasing the reveal of those pale, pale curls and the flushed pink flesh beneath. 

Genji's breath caught when he saw that she was already wet, her pussy glistening with physical evidence of her desire for him. She might be insane, but he couldn't deny that she truly did want this.

Without thinking about it he reached for her, but she smacked his hands away. "No cheating, sugar," she scolded. "You gotta pay your debt, first. You owe me a piece of clothing."

He did, and there was only one choice. The lower body sheath was beneath the groin piece, and couldn't be removed first. Now that the moment of truth had arrived, Genji froze, unable to make his hands reach for the catches. Surely, _surely_ this would cause her to turn away, and he would lose this precious chance to find pleasure with her. 

"I could pay my debt with service instead," he suggested. "I've been told I am quite talented with my tongue. I may be a little rusty, but I'm sure it will come back to me."

"Tempting," she agreed. "But why should I settle for the milk when I can have the whole cow? You don't get none of this..." Ashe slid her hand down over her stomach, dipping her fingers into the slick folds and stroking herself once. Her voice was breathy when she continued, "...until you show me yours." When she lifted her hand, her fingers were glistening with her juices. She brought them to her mouth and licked them clean, making him groan as she sucked at each digit.

"You're killing me," he complained. He wanted to taste her so bad his mouth watered at the thought, and there was only one way he was going to get what he wanted. He forced his hands to drop to his hips, and undid the catches that held the plate in place. The release of constriction on his rigid cock was almost its own form of pain, and he gasped with relief.

His cock was in one piece and functional, thank all the gods, but the energy burns that ravaged most of his body had not magically spared his groin. At least there were none of the deeper sword cuts; Hanzo had been ruthless, but not deliberately cruel. Still, the burn scars left rougher swaths across delicate skin, and pulled hard to the left so that his cock looked crooked.

Ashe studied him, still without a trace of pity in her inhumanly red eyes. "Does it hurt? Why didn't they do a graft?"

"There was not enough healthy skin left on my body, and synthetic skin refused to take," he explained, unable to quite look her in the face. "Damage dealt by the Shimada dragons is vicious and brutal, and resists medical treatment. Angela did what she could, but her priority was dealing with my ruined throat and damaged internal organs, and then preventing infection or complications from setting in."

"Does it _hurt_?" she asked again, lifting her gaze to meet his. "And you said you don't like clothes because bein' touched is irritating..."

Even now, the only emotion showing in her eyes was heated desire. She was insane, but Genji was starting to accept that the insanity went all the way through. And if her interest was genuine, whatever the reason, he would take advantage of it. 

"Not the same thing," he assured her. "Most people's brains filter out unnecessary feedback, like clothes always touching your skin, or you'd go crazy from sensory overload. Mine doesn't do as good a job, because of the way the 'nerves' are hardwired. But intimate touch..."

He reached his left hand toward her collarbone, and this time she allowed it. Placing two fingertips on the raised bone, he traced the wing shape, then dragged the pads down over breast. Her breathing sped up, eyes darkening as her pupils dilated with arousal. Genji smirked. "Intimate touch," he repeated, "is something you _want_ to be aware of. That's the whole point."

When he traced over her nipple, the peak tightened further. Pinching it between thumb and forefinger, Genji rolled it gently. Ashe moaned, and arched into the touch. Her head fell back against the pillows, knocking her hat askew. Chuckling, Genji left off tormenting her to pull the hat off and toss it aside.

"Hey," she protested. "You ain't earned that forfeit yet."

"We both know I'm going to deal a draw again," he pointed out. "I want to play a different kind of game." She hadn't flinched, hadn't changed her mind, and Genji was desperate to soak up as many moments of pleasure as he could wring out of this night. Ducking his head, he fastened his mouth on her nipple and sucked hard.

She fisted her hand in his hair, holding tight enough to pull in the most delicious way. Instead of pulling him back, she pushed him closer, encouraging more. Genji obliged, biting and then licking at the peak, before shifting his attention to the neglected breast. She tasted of cream and faint citrus, probably some kind of body lotion, with the slightest tang of gunpowder. Not what he'd have expected to be an appealing combination, but it suited her so perfectly.

With her other hand, Ashe ran her fingers over his cheek, down the side of his throat where flesh met metal, and over his left shoulder. She didn't flinch away from his scars as she explored, in fact traced the line of some of them. Genji had less sensation on the scar tissue, and the shift in intensity as she moved over the skin made him even more aware of the touch. 

She arched beneath him again, rubbing her pussy against his metal thigh. "Oh," she gasped, shivering. "That's kinda weird. I like it."

"I'm starting to think 'weird' is what turns you on," he muttered, and she laughed. He shifted, wedging his hips between her thighs so he could slide his cock over her slick flesh instead... only to have his replacement leg fail, tilting him to the side so unexpectedly he lost his balance and fell on her. 

"Oof! Darn, you're heavy," she complained, breathless. "I _don't_ wanna get stuck underneath you again."

"Sorry." Shamed and embarrassed, Genji rolled onto his side, removing the weight of his metal body from her. He'd have gone further, retreated entirely, except she locked her legs around his waist and arms around his neck.

"Hey, now. Where you running off to?" Ashe arched an eyebrow at him, her tone teasing but her eyes serious. "Leave me hangin', and lemme tell you, there'll be serious consequences."

"But I can't..." Genji started, only to be interrupted by a peal of laughter.

"Missionary ain't the only position, sugar. I thought you were experienced and all?" Pushing at his shoulder, she nudged him onto his back and shifted so she was straddling him, knees on either side of his chest. "Always was partial to cowgirl position, myself."

Looking up at her, so proud and fierce and shameless, so uncaring of his flaws and weaknesses, Genji lost a piece of his heart. He swallowed, and managed not to sound overly emotional when he replied, "Well, then. What's the phrase? Ride 'em, cowgirl?"

"That's the one. You're gettin' the idea." She planted her hands on his shoulders... and shifted upwards, instead of down to his cock as he'd expected. Seeing his surprised expression, she smirked. "Don't you worry none, we'll get to the main event. But first comes the warmup - I wanna ride that supposedly talented tongue of yours."

The purred words, and the mental image that went with it, had Genji hardening impossibly further. "Fuck, yes please," he groaned, and lifted his hands to cup her ass, encouraging her to come into his reach.

"Language," she scolded, but anything else she might have said was lost in a gasp when he buried his face in her pussy. 

Genji licked at her sweet flesh, not avoiding her clit but not paying any particular attention to it, not yet. The taste of her was honey on his tongue, pure heaven. When he pushed as far inside as he could, she was so hot it made him want to melt. 

Ashe clung to the headboard, riding his face with jerky motions meant to try to force him where she wanted him, but Genji evaded her for long moments. He didn't want this to end too quickly. He'd forgotten how much he loved wringing gasps of sheer pleasure from his partner.

Finally he gave in, licking a long stripe from her entrance to her clit, flattening his tongue to caress as much area as possible. He did it again, and again, speeding the strokes until his pace matched the frantic rhythm of her hips, and the shuddering cries she gave each time he flicked over the tight bundle of nerves.

If it went on forever, Genji would be content - though his aching cock disagreed with him rather vigorously. Sadly, it only took a few minutes before she was shaking in his grasp, cries changing to screams as she crested the peak of orgasm. She dropped her hands from the headboard to fist in his hair, holding him close as she rocked against his tongue in time with the spasms of her body.

Far too soon, her cries of pleasure turned to overstimulated moans of protest, and she tried to pull away instead of pushing closer. Reluctantly, Genji let her go, and she sank back on her heels to rest on the synthetic shell over his stomach. Ashe was panting, eyes heavy-lidded with sated pleasure, her smirk distinctly satisfied.

"Well?" Genji asked, more than a little breathless himself. "Was that sufficient payment for removing your last piece of clothing? Though now I kind of wish you'd kept the hat. It would complete the picture." 

And damn, what an image. He did his best to memorize the way she looked, pale skin all but glowing in the soft light of the bedside lamp, hair mussed and body sheened with sweat. A photo couldn't do her true justice.

Chuckling, she leaned over to one side, stretching out her hand and managing to snag her hat up off the floor. Pushing her hair behind her ear on one side, she settled the hat back in place. "Better?"

"Perfect," he agreed, and hoped he didn't sound as besotted as he felt. 

"Good, 'cause I ain't nearly done with you yet." Lifting up, Ashe shimmied back until she was lined up with him, then wrapped one slender hand around his cock. "Nice and hard, just how I like it. That scar pulling at it gonna cause you any problems?"

"I don't think so." Genji's voice came out strangled, as she squeezed him with tiny little strokes. "Let's find out."

“Mmm. Maybe we’d better give it a test run first, just to be sure.” Smirking, she slid down further, and leaned over. All the breath escaped him when he realized her intention, and he groaned even before the first touch of her lips to his cock.

The purring sound of satisfaction she made as she swallowed the tip didn’t help his self-control any. She licked at him with the same enthusiastic abandon he’d shown her, as if his cock was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. 

Her red, red lips made the prettiest picture wrapped around his shaft, and the hollow of her cheeks as she sucked threatened to drive him mad. “Ashe…” Nothing else would come out, and Genji wasn’t even sure if he’d intended to encourage her to greater heights, or beg her to stop before he couldn’t take any more.

It was the most exquisite torture he’d ever experienced. Maybe that was partly how long it had been since anyone had done this for him, but he was fairly certain it was also due to her talent and skill. Genji tangled his left hand in her hair, savouring the feel of the silky strands tumbling over his fingers, and sank into bliss.

Finally he _had_ to stop her, little though he wanted to. When he tugged on her hair, she resisted the pull and nibbled oh-so-gently at the head of his cock in protest. Genji shuddered at the delicate scrape of teeth. “Ashe,” he protested, the word little more than a gasp. “Please, I can’t…”

Pulling off him with a soft ‘pop’, she sighed in obvious disappointment. “Oh, all right. You bein’ such a delicate flower an’ all, I’ll go easy on you.”

“I want to feel your pussy squeeze around me,” he told her, and her eyes brightened at the dirty talk. “As good as your mouth feels, I can only imagine how much better your body will be.”

Grinning, she lined him up and sank down on him, one torturous inch at a time. The earlier orgasm had loosened her up enough that he was in no danger of hurting her, but she was still tight and hot around his cock. Genji clutched at her hips, trying to urge her down faster, but she was in control and clearly liked it that way.

No sooner was she all the way down than she lifted back up again, just as slow. Then she _slammed_ down on him, hard and fast, catching him by surprise and making him groan. She did it again, and again, bracing her hands on his chest and letting him help lift her each time, all but bouncing on him. Her thighs flexed with the motion, making the muscles stand out, and she showed no signs of tiring. 

The sweat beaded on her skin began to roll down, and one particular drop tracing a path down her right breast caught Genji's attention. He did a half sit-up, curling to lick the bead right off her, then followed its intended path down until he could suck her tight nipple into his mouth.

She gasped, then laughed, delighted. "Flexible, ain't you? I like it. Don't you dare stop until I tell you to, sugar."

In retaliation for the order - and the implication that he would come too soon and leave her hanging - Genji nipped at the tight bud. As a punishment, it didn't work well, because she moaned like he'd caressed her clit instead. He did it again, then lifted his left hand to pinch and roll the other one, since she liked it so much.

Her stamina was impressive, and Genji hadn't done this with anyone in so long, it did take a lot of effort to hold back. Since he _didn't_ want to disappoint her, he eventually dropped his hand down from her breast, sliding between them with the intention of seeking out her clit again. He was surprised when she grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"Other hand?" she asked, hopeful but not assuming. "I like the way they feel different. I wanna try both."

Nodding, too breathless to say anything, Genji switched the position of his hands. That she would ask for the touch of the metal one made him finally, _fully_ believe that she not only didn't care about his scars and prosthetics, but actually found the whole package attractive. The least he could do was give her what she requested, in return for giving him a gift he'd never thought he would get back - the belief that someone could want him.

The synthetic pads of his fingertips were in some ways more sensitive than the real thing. He felt every tiny tuck and fold of her flesh, could feel the faint pulse of her heartbeat through thin skin. When he rubbed at her clit, biting her nipple at the same time, she screamed and shuddered against him. Genji rocked his hips into her thrusts, putting as much force into it as he could from this position, and it was enough to push her over the edge a second time.

Letting go of the self-control he'd been clinging so tightly to, Genji managed three more shallow thrusts before he spilled himself into her, cock pulsing with the force of his release. Gasping, he sank back onto the pillows, and she followed him down to drape over his chest. When she kissed him, he tried his best to return her passion with interest, but had to break away after only a few brief seconds.

"Sorry," he managed, panting hard. "Need to... catch my breath." His damaged lungs protested the strain he'd just put them through, but fuck, it had been worth it. So worth it.

Her eyes widened in dismay. "Shoot, you said you couldn't do anything strenuous without your air system or whatever. You gonna be okay?"

"I know my limits," he assured her, rubbing his left hand up and down the smooth line of her back. He found the touch as comforting as she hopefully did. "Besides, you were doing most of the work. Guess it's a good thing you like being on top."

"I do indeed," she agreed, smirk returning now that she knew he was okay. The display of genuine concern, however brief, was touching.

"Sleep with me?" Genji invited, feeling almost shy about making the offer. He'd never done that before, never held someone while he fell asleep. He'd always left his lovers after the sex was finished, well-satisfied but without much in the way of after-cuddling. This was the first time he'd ever cared enough about his partner to _want_ them near for longer than it took to get them both off.

He tried not to think too hard about what that meant, or how fucking _good_ it felt when she nodded and laid her head down on his shoulder, apparently content to stay right where she was. His softening cock had slipped out of her, but the weight and warmth of her body was almost as good. Stretching, he managed to pull the blanket up over them, so her cooling skin wouldn't get chilled.

This was temporary. Soon enough, he'd be recovered enough to fight, and then they'd hit the Talon base and retrieve McCree. Once that was over, he would likely never see Ashe again - assuming they didn't end up fighting outright over McCree's fate and freedom. It didn't matter that she was brilliant, gorgeous, and genuinely saw _him_ and not his modifications. There was no point in him falling for her.

And if he already was... well, all he could do was make the most of what time they got together.


	7. Chapter 7

Ashe was warm, comfortable, and thoroughly sated with pleasure. For a guy who hadn't had sex in a decade, Genji was a darn good lay. Actually he was a darn good lay, period. Maybe the best she'd ever had, though she wasn't going to tell him that. No sense giving him a swelled head, then he might stop trying so hard to impress her.

More than anything at the moment, she wanted to stay asleep, but something was poking at the small of her back quite insistently. If it had been Genji's cock, ready for another round, she wouldn't have minded so much, but it felt like an animal's snout. Something must have gotten into the house - raccoon, barn cat, didn't much matter. It wasn't welcome.

"Scat," she muttered, the word coming out as little more than a groan. The snout poked harder, as if encouraged by the knowledge that she was awake. "Shoo, I said. Git. Skedaddle. Mosey along."

A long, lithe body wriggled up over her hip, then slithered down her front to curl up against her stomach. What the hell was it, a _snake_? Ashe's eyes flew open as she cringed back in alarm. "What in the..."

Anything else she might have said was trapped in her throat, shock sealing her voice as she stared at the _glowing, see-through_ creature coiled on the blanket in front of her. 

It was scaled like a snake, but had a broad snout with sharp teeth and some kind of spiky mane. Horns jutted back from its forehead, and impossibly long whiskers draped from either side of its nose to float in the air. Seeing that she was looking at it, the creature cooed what sounded like a pleased noise. 

Rigid with fear and disbelief, Ashe forced sound through her strangled throat in a harsh whisper. "Shimada. Shimada, wake up. There's... there's a... _thing_... in the bed!"

He murmured something that might have been muffled words or might have just been a sleepy sound, and snuggled closer against her back. His arm slipped around her waist, which did nothing to reassure her. In fact, it was going to make it harder for her to escape, if running was her best bet.

Ashe jabbed her elbow back, then winced when it met metal instead of flesh. " _Genji_!"

"Don't worry." This time his voice was clearer, though still sleepy. "He won’t hurt you."

"How d'you know? You ain't even looked!" His forehead was pressed against the nape of her neck, and he hadn't lifted his head to see the creature.

A chuckle rumbled through him, and was echoed by a soft chittering sound from the... thing. "How can he hurt you, if you don't believe he exists?"

It took her a second to make the connection. "Are you saying that's your imaginary _dragon_?" Sure, he'd talked about it like it was real, but Overwatch had declared him delusional, and they'd know, right? "There's no such thing!"

"Okay, what would you call him?" Shimada's arm squeezed tighter around her waist, and she felt his lips curve in a grin against her shoulder.

"I'd call him a bad trip," Ashe snapped, squirming free and pushing up to sit, clutching the sheet to her bare chest as she stared at what had to be a hallucination. "What’d you do, dose me with something to get me into bed?" Delusions weren't catching, so it wasn't his madness somehow transferring to her, but that thing _could not be real_. Drugs were the only explanation.

The dragon hissed, an angry and aggressive sound, and it scrambled back across her legs to dive at Shimada. It vanished in a burst of green light. Shimada’s eyes snapped open at last, glowing hellish red. There was enough moonlight through the window for her to see his furious expression as he sat up. "Excuse me? Did you just accuse me of drugging you for sex? This was _your_ idea."

Beneath the anger was a very deep, very real pain. He'd been so reluctant to believe that she could want his scarred body. Her accusation had to twist the knife into that sore spot, and maybe pour a little acid in to boot. She certainly _hadn't_ needed any chemical encouragement to jump his bones, nor did she truly believe he was the type to try such a thing. 

Shamed, she bowed her head. "All right, that was uncalled for," she admitted, in her best conciliatory tone. "I'm sorry."

He grunted, unimpressed by her apology, clearly still hurt. They weren't touching at all now, sitting on opposite sides of the bed, him with the sheet pooled in his lap and her with it still held to her chest. What had been a sweet, sexy cuddling session was now a study in awkwardness. Ashe felt cold, though the room had been the perfect temperature a moment before. 

"Now he's going to sulk for days," Shimada grumbled. "Couldn't you at least have called him a _good_ trip?"

Swallowing, Ashe tried to convince herself that she actually had seen the glowing creature. Her mind kept skipping away from the idea. But Shimada seemed dead serious, and she'd certainly seen _something_. "It's... it's really real? You have some kinda ghost dragon living inside you?"

"Spirit," he corrected. "Ghost implies he was once a physical being that died. Raijin is and always has been a spirit. Among the Shimada-gumi, it was considered an honour to see him, or any of the dragons. They don't often show themselves outside of battle, or let others witness their true form."

"Shy and sensitive about lettin' people see the real him, huh?" Ashe couldn't help but smile. "Sounds familiar. Guess he takes after his..."

"Do _not_ say 'owner'," Shimada interrupted, eyes narrowed. "The dragons belong to no one. If anything, I am _his_ pet." 

Since that was indeed what Ashe had been about to say, it took her a moment to readjust. "Partner, then," she settled on. "Can I see him again?"

"Not up to me." Shimada shrugged. "You hurt his feelings."

Feeling a bit like maybe insanity _was_ contagious, Ashe addressed his chest, not sure where else to look. "I am sorry. You scared the tar out of me, is all. Come back? Pretty please?"

There was a soft rumble, like very distant thunder, except it came from right next to her. A moment later the glowing green head poked up from Shimada's back, looking over his human left shoulder. It - he - seemed wary this time, eyeing her like she might grab a gun and shoot at any moment.

"Well, I'll be darned." Ashe stared right back, fascinated and still not quite believing despite the evidence in front of her eyes. "Can he talk? Does he actually understand us?" The dragon bobbed his head, as if answering her question. Maybe he was.

"He doesn't speak in words, though he's expressive enough to get his point across most of the time." Turning his head, Shimada gave the dragon a look that was somewhere between fond and exasperated. "I can sense his... 'thoughts' isn't the right word. It's not that coherent. Legends say dragons taught humans how to read and write, but the Shimada dragons have never written anything that I’m aware of. As far as my family has determined, they're smart enough to understand basic conversations and commands, but not much more. They're lesser kami."

The dragon made a sound remarkably like blowing a raspberry in response to the last comment. Shimada chuckled, and reached up to scratch the creature's head. It crooned and melted into the touch, oozing over his shoulder to puddle on the bed between them. Hesitantly, Ashe ran her hand along its back. The scales were cool and solid beneath her fingers, and when he turned and headbutted her hand to ask for more, she felt the horns as real as could be. 

"He's so little and cute," she exclaimed, and he crooned louder. "The way you talked about him being a great weapon, I pictured something huge and fearsome."

"Oh, he can be that." Shimada said. "When channeled through my blade, he gains power. But this is his natural form. Think of him as a very smart cat, and you won't be far off the mark in predicting his behaviour." He was relaxing now that she'd accepted his not-so-delusional dragon, sliding lower in bed so he was only half sitting, curled up on his side to keep petting Raijin.

Ashe did the same, lying all the way back down and snuggling closer until her head rested on his left shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, and Raijin cuddled up in a ball of coils to fill the small space between them. "Well, ain't this homey," Ashe drawled, amused. 

"Thank you for accepting him." Shimada's voice was low, and unexpectedly serious. "Many do not, or can not, even when they see him. Most of those in Overwatch convinced themselves he was a hard-light projection from my blade."

"Lemme guess. Everyone except Jesse?" It would be very like her best friend to accept Raijin without question, letting the dragon find a place in his life that allowed the little creature to simply be what he was meant to be. Much like Jesse had done for her, back before she'd found the strength to break free of her gilded cage once and for all. 

"Raijin loves McCree," Shimada confirmed. "Used to steal his hat to curl up in and sleep. McCree was always happy to be a designated lap and petting station. I swear, if Raijin could leave my side for more than a few minutes, I'd have lost him entirely to the cowboy." 

The dragon chortled, whiskers waving in what seemed to be the visual accompaniment to his laugh. She could certainly see what Shimada meant about him being expressive.

"Well, he's welcome to come to me for pets anytime," Ashe said, and he chirped in delight. "He's awful sweet. I _am_ sorry."

"You're forgiven, apparently." Shimada sounded indulgent, and his smile warmed her right through. "The attention hog is all yours. I won't mind a break from keeping him entertained."

"You should show yourself to Bob," Ashe suggested to the dragon. "He's just sittin' out there bein' lookout all the time, and he gets lonely too. He'd _love_ you." 

She knew her companion well enough to be certain of that. Bob lived to take care of things, and she didn't provide nearly enough work to keep him happy. If Ashe wasn't miserably allergic to anything with fur, he'd have undoubtedly filled the hideout with stray dogs and cats. Raijin didn't seem to give her any trouble, despite his flowing mane; apparently spirit animals didn't trigger allergies.

Giggling internally at her own thoughts, Ashe closed her eyes and settled in once more. It felt so good, to have Shimada curled around her and Raijin between them. She could get used to this.

Under no circumstances could she allow herself to.

* * *

The scent of bacon and coffee roused Ashe at sunup the next morning. Shimada was still asleep next to her, so Bob must have come in long enough to cook. He'd started doing that, his version of taking a break. The odds of someone coming after them were small to start with, and extremely unlikely in the space of half an hour or so. Ashe didn't mind, and Shimada hadn't said anything about it either.

There was no sign of Raijin. In the bright light of day, Ashe was more than half convinced she'd dreamed the whole encounter. That made so much more sense than the idea that a _spirit dragon_ lived inside Shimada and had come out for cuddles.

Yawning, she slipped out of bed. Shimada grumbled a protest and rolled over to bury his face in the pillow, apparently not ready to get up. Smirking, Ashe ruffled his hair, eliciting another grunt. Then she sauntered off to the bathroom.

Showering only took a few minutes, but getting her hair and makeup right was another matter. Looking good was a form of armour, and being glamorous often made men underestimate you, at the same time as it made them take you more seriously for being 'put together'. That was a lesson she'd learned from her mother, a powerful CEO. 

If Ashe also found herself wanting to look good for a certain someone, well, that was a side benefit, not the main reason. Never mind that there was nobody else out here to impress.

Breakfast was ready when she finally emerged into the old farmhouse kitchen. Bob was at the stove, serving up eggs and bacon, with a frilly apron covering a tiny portion of his enormous chest. Shimada slumped over the table, both hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee, his hair rumpled from bed.

And Raijin sat coiled on the counter next to the stove, begging for scraps from Bob.

Ashe blinked, then decided there was no point in staring. She'd accepted the dragon was real last night, so it was probably still real this morning. Though it did reassure her when Bob turned to feed the little guy a piece of bacon - it meant the omnic saw the creature too. She wasn't crazy, at least.

"Mornin'," she said, and took the mug of coffee Bob held out. Tugging on the front of his apron, she got him to lean down so she could buss his cheek with a kiss. "Hey there, handsome. Thanks for breakfast."

Turning, she winked at Shimada. "Afraid you don't qualify for 'handsome' at the moment, but that bedhead earns you 'adorable' as a consolation prize."

"You were hogging the bathroom," he retorted, rolling his eyes. "Why do you treat Bob like a servant, when you claim he is family? He cooks all the meals, he stands guard day and night..."

"Excuse you, that's _his_ choice, not on my order," Ashe retorted. "Just because he was built for the purpose of doing something, doesn't mean he should deny himself if he enjoys it. When we first left home, I wouldn't let him do anything to serve me, and it made him miserable. He finally put his foot down, and I realized if he was family, that meant he had the right to choose. Ain't that right, Bob?"

The big omnic nodded solemnly. Lifting his massive hands, he made a clumsy heart at her. Raijin flowed up Bob's back to perch on his shoulder, nuzzling the omnic’s cheek.

Shimada watched the scene with one of his crooked smiles. "All right, I stand corrected," he acknowledged. "It is his choice. Master Zenyatta would scold me for assuming otherwise. You would like Zenyatta, Bob. I know he would like you."

"Master?" Ashe raised an eyebrow at him with a teasing grin. "What, you into some kinda kinky Dom/sub stuff, Shimada? Didn't take you for the type."

He coughed on the sip of coffee he'd just taken, and glared at her for a moment until he could speak. "Not like that! He is my teacher and mentor, Tekhartha Zenyatta of the Shambali. He is the one who finally convinced me that there was nothing monstrous about what I am, that I had not lost my soul by being more machine than man." Raijin chirped repeatedly, a cheerful sound which seemed to mean agreement or approval.

"Well, then I guess I owe him a thank you," Ashe chuckled. "Since I imagine without that, you wouldn't have been so happy to pound me into the mattress for half the night."

That fascinating scar-striped blush spread over his face. Ashe never got tired of seeing it, especially since it was so much fun to put it there. His gaze darted to Bob, and he looked scandalized. "Ashe!"

She laughed. "What, you don't think he heard me screaming? Bob ain't a prude, and you shouldn't be neither. Loosen up, Shimada, and enjoy life a little." Leaning over, she placed two fingers beneath his chin and tipped his face up for a kiss. 

It started sweet, and she'd only intended it to be a brief 'good morning' reminder that he hadn't been any kind of prude last night. Then he opened his mouth and slipped his tongue alongside hers, and it became another battle of wills and dominance. The next thing Ashe knew, she was sitting on his lap, with her hands clenched in his tousled hair, and him holding her by the hips in a rather possessive grip.

When they parted, the glow in his eyes had intensified as his pupils expanded with desire. He smirked, and shook his head. "My brother would be startled to hear you call me a prude, and horrified at the idea of me loosening my morals _further_. I was quite the social butterfly, in my youth."

"Oh, yeah?" Ashe gave him a challenging look. "Well, you better not be thinking 'bout visiting any other flowers now that I've reminded you how good it is. Not while you're with me." For however brief a time that turned out to be.

"I would never," he promised. His smirk turned to a sweet smile. "You are welcome to call me Genji, you know. I think we are on intimate enough terms for relaxed formality."

It was an unexpected invitation, and rather touching. He hadn't objected to her calling him by last name this whole time, and she'd figured coming from a military organization like Overwatch, he was probably more used to that than his first name. Ashe hesitated. It _did_ feel like an intimacy, a step further in their non-existent relationship.

Aw, what the hell. They'd never see each other again. It didn’t mean she was getting attached.

"Genji, then. But don't you dare call me Elizabeth. I hate that name, and I hate the nicknames even more." She grimaced. "Can't never hear it without remembering the way my mama always said it. 'Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe, what have you done now'," she mimicked her mother's disdainful, disappointed tone. Seemed like the only time she'd ever drawn her mother's attention was when the woman was upset with her for one transgression or another.

"Apparently that phenomenon is universal among family, no matter the culture or language," Genji replied dryly. "My brother sounded exactly the same." He deepened and roughened his voice, adopting much the same stern, angry tone she had. " 'Genji, you bring shame upon the Shimada name."

Ashe laughed. "Yep, that's it exactly. So were you really a mobster prince?"

"Effectively." He smiled, an expression that was becoming more common as he relaxed around her. "The Shimada Group literally owned Hanamura, the town I grew up in. My family goes back centuries, we lived in a castle. With the dragons as our most powerful weapon, we were all but unchallenged in our supremacy."

"Ever miss it?" she asked, running her hands through his spiky hair. 

"Once in a while," he admitted. "When the cherry trees are blooming, no matter where in the world I am, I can't help but feel homesick. But what I miss is the place, and the innocence of my childhood. I do not regret leaving the life I would have led there."

"Same," she agreed. This was something she rarely talked about, other than a few disparaging comments about her rich parents. The gang members could never appreciate the pressures put on the children of the wealthy and powerful. In fact, many of them thought her crazy for fleeing a life of ease and luxury. 

Ironic that Genji's rich family had a criminal empire and he'd left to become a hero with Overwatch, while her family had a legitimate business conglomerate and she'd fled to become an outlaw. Even so, he might be the first person she'd ever met who could truly understand that part of her.

Not that it mattered. She had to keep reminding herself of that. He was _leaving_ ; this was a temporary alliance, and then they'd go back to being on opposite sides of the law. Even if he was technically no longer in Overwatch, he clearly still led that life, no matter his protests about not being a hero.

Ignoring the pain that thought brought, Ashe leaned in and kissed him again. Forget breakfast. They could eat it cold. Or maybe he could eat it off her, that would be fun too. Right now, the only thing she wanted to do was drown in pleasure while she had him, and forget about the fact that it wouldn't last.


	8. Chapter 8

Lazing about in bed, half asleep and enjoying the warmth of the morning sun, had once been a frequent pastime of Genji’s. It had been many years and a very long road between him and that spoiled boy, but having rediscovered this particular vice, he’d taken to enjoying it again. 

Especially since now he had the added pleasure of waking to Ashe’s soft, lithe body curled against his. The morning sun looked even more beautiful on her pale skin, and given the chance, he’d have spent hours every day just stroking and cuddling her.

Among other, more intimate methods of touching her. 

“I wish we could spend the whole day in bed,” he murmured as she stirred in his arms, waking. “It’s not as if we truly have anything better to do.” 

He was as accustomed to his replacement leg as he was going to get, and it was enough that he felt confident taking on Talon to rescue McCree. Only his inability to fight for more than a minute without passing out from lack of air held him back now, and he truly didn’t know what to do about that. 

She yawned against his shoulder, and he smiled, running his hand through her disheveled hair. They’d been up half the night, wearing each other out, as they’d done every night for the past week. “Sounds like a plan to me. Had a thought in the middle of the night, though. Kept me up even later than you did.”

“Oh?” Her tone suggested it wasn’t an idea about some new sexual experiment. Sadly. 

“Had a new thought for something to try with that oxygen problem of yours,” she replied. “Been reading up in cybernetic journals while you trained, and I think I got it figured out.”

Genji went tense, his whole body humming in anticipation. Being so vulnerable, unable to truly defend himself if they were attacked, had been shredding his nerves from the moment he’d woken in this old farmhouse. Coming to trust Ashe and Bob had alleviated only part of that frustration, as had getting the new leg.

“Do it,” he said, with no hesitation. She’d proven herself competent with the rest of his repairs, and unlike the first time he’d been forced to permit her to mess with his core, he knew she had only his best interests at heart. 

“You get settled while I fetch the tools, then.” Rolling off the bed, she pulled on a pair of jeans and the hoodie he’d worn as a poor disguise when they’d first met. She’d claimed possession of it early on, and he enjoyed the look of her wearing what was nominally his shirt. 

It brightened some tiny corner of his heart to know she would hold a memento of him when he was gone. 

By the time she returned, he’d arranged himself laying on his front on the bed, the easiest position for her to get access to his core. This time she didn’t need him to walk her through removing the cover of his artificial spine, and her swift competence in doing so reassured him again.

“Hey there, beautiful,” she said, stroking her fingers along the exposed curve of Raijin’s tattoo on his back. Within him the dragon stirred, and a ghostly croon of pleasure filled the air, but Raijin did not emerge. “Aw, feeling shy?”

“He knows I’m about to suffer pain,” Genji replied. “It troubles him, and he hides deep within to escape it.”

“Well, sorry ‘bout that, but it’s necessary.” Ashe petted the dragon’s image one last time, then picked up a tool. “Sooner we get started, sooner it’s over with. Here goes nothing.”

There were truly no words that could describe the excruciating agony of having someone messing with Genji's cybernetic nervous system. Angela had always insisted on putting him under when she had to make major adjustments, though Genji hated being unconscious and completely vulnerable for so long. 

This time, anesthesia wasn't even an option. As Ashe tinkered with the complex cybernetic organs, he gritted his teeth and did his best to meditate through the pain. It was a skill that had never come naturally to him, though he'd learned to do it the hard way, in the interminable hours of agony and helplessness after he'd woken from the battle but before Mercy gave him his body.

"Hang in there, sugar," Ashe murmured. "I almost got it."

"This isn’t quite what I had in mind when I said I wanted to stay in bed," he gritted out. He was proud that his voice didn't shake, though he couldn't stop it from being breathless. Not only did the pain make it hard to breathe deeply, but the way she leaned on his back made it difficult for his ribs to rise and fall.

"Yeah, well, I'm lookin' forward to you showin' me what you can do when you don't gotta stop to catch your breath every few minutes," Ashe teased him back. "So hold tight. I think... we're just about... there!" With a triumphant sound she drew back, and Genji groaned as the relentless agony began to fade. 

As proper awareness returned, he could hear the quiet, familiar white noise of his air system, and feel the cool breeze against his cheeks where the vents were. "It's working!" he exclaimed, relieved and delighted. Fighting with the replacement leg was going to be bad enough. Trying to take on an entire Talon base while on the verge of passing out from hypoxia was not an appealing idea.

Even with the mask off, the extra oxygen in the air flowing past his face helped already, letting him feel like he could take a full breath for the first time in far too long. Pushing up to sit cross-legged, Genji scooped up his mask from where it had sat useless on the bedside table all this time.

"Wait," Ashe said, putting her hand on his and holding the mask down. Her voice was husky, and there was a look in her eyes that was almost... desperate? 

He understood, because he felt the same way. As soon as he put this on, he was as functional as he could be, and that meant it was time to go after Talon. Despite her teasing words, there would be no showing off his stamina in bed when he didn't have breathing issues. No more hours spent working her up, teasing her to frustration, and pushing her over the edge again and again. No more drowsy mornings cuddling her with Raijin curled up between them, the most content Genji had ever felt in his life.

They were on a mission, and there was still a strong possibility that McCree was in Talon's hands, suffering and in need of rescue. It was bad enough that Genji and Ashe had been indulging themselves this long, but at least they'd had the excuse that he wasn't battleworthy. Now, that excuse was gone.

Yet he still did the selfish thing, set the mask aside and pulled her in for one last kiss - which turned to one more, and another, and in short order he was once again making her scream with pleasure. All the while, the fateful words beat in the back of his mind, inescapable as his heartbeat.

 _Last time_.

* * *

They had very little recon info on the nearest Talon base, and no easy way of getting more. Ashe was sorely tempted to suggest they hold off a while longer, gather information, but she knew that was selfishness talking. Not that she had any issues with indulging her selfish desires most of the time, but not when the wellbeing of one of her people was on the line. And Jesse McCree was still _hers_ , no matter how pissed she was at him.

"All right, sugar. What's the plan?" she asked, as they crouched in an alley across from the building he'd identified as belonging to Talon. There was no obvious sign of them, beyond a very high-tech security system, but Genji insisted this was their nearest seat of power. Usually she was the one giving orders when she ran a raid, but Ashe was willing to acknowledge that Genji had more experience with this kind of assault than she did. Ashe was prideful, not stupid.

"I will create a distraction at the front," he declared. "That will draw their attention away from the interior, allowing you to sneak in the back to find McCree. Hopefully, he's in good enough shape to walk out under his own power. If not, you call me for help, and I'll join you at your position. Bob will stand ready as backup, and step in for additional distraction as soon as you let us know you have McCree for additional cover as you get out."

Suspicious, Ashe glared at him. It was odd to see him in the full suit of armour, looking like a strange sort of omnic. At least the visor was up, leaving his eyes still visible for the moment. "I don't need protectin'," she said. "I can hold my own in the fight, you don't gotta give me the easy job."

"Easy?" He gave her an incredulous look. His expressions were much harder to read with that damn mask on, but she knew him well enough now to interpret the look in his eyes. "You're going to be on your own, with no support if something goes wrong. It's close quarters, so you'll be at a disadvantage with your chosen weapons. If McCree is badly injured, you'll have to guard him until I can reach you, and at that point they'll know you’re there. If I was protecting you, I'd put you at the front with Bob and go in myself."

There was logic to that, but Ashe still wasn't sure she bought it. "So why _not_ go in yourself?" she demanded. "You're the stealth expert, and like you said, your weapons work better in close quarters."

"I am well known to Talon, and they will immediately identify me as a _very_ large threat," he said, with surprisingly little brag in his tone. It was simply a matter-of-fact statement. "They'll pour as many people as they can spare into trying to contain and capture me, pulling them away from internal security. Since they don't know you and I are working together, they won't be looking for you coming in the back. If you and Bob are the distraction, Talon will assume others of your gang survived and are with you somewhere, so they’ll be more alert to other intrusions."

Satisfied that this really was the best plan, and not him going easy on her for stupid sentimental reasons, Ashe nodded. "All right, then. What do I do if I can't find him? We don't even know for sure if they have him, let alone if he's here."

"Then take revenge for your comrades as best you see fit." He bowed his head briefly, as if acknowledging the dead. "I notice you brought plenty of explosives with you."

"Seemed a fitting end for them," Ashe agreed, patting the messenger bag full of high explosives. "I'll plant them as I go, then set them off once I'm out."

"Just make sure you're _very_ thorough in looking for McCree before you push the detonator," Genji replied dryly, and she laughed.

"Don't you worry none. I know what I'm doin'. Now, let's get while the gettin' is good."

"If anything goes wrong, we meet at the fallback spot as soon as we're out," Genji said. Bob nodded solemnly, and so did Ashe. As they stood, Genji caught Ashe's arm in his hand, tugging her around to face him so they were chest to chest. "Ashe... be careful in there."

From anyone else, she'd have scolded him for daring to treat her different just because they’d had a bit of fun between the sheets. When he said it, she didn't feel like he thought he had some right to control her. Just that he... cared.

It had been a very long time since Ashe had anyone other than Bob who genuinely cared, on a heart-deep level, whether she was safe or not. Possibly even longer since she'd cared just as much in return. 

Not since Jesse turned his back and hightailed it for greener pastures, and she’d sworn never to let anyone close enough to hurt her again.

Swallowing, she forced her voice to stay steady when she replied, "You, too." Then, because the moment was far too painfully sentimental, she added, "One scratch on Bob and I'm holdin' you accountable, just so you know."

He chuckled. "I'll keep it in mind. Go, and good luck. I'll start the attack, then Bob can follow when their attention is on me." 

With that he flipped down the visor to hide his eyes, then did his straight-up-the-wall lizard impression and vanished over the edge of the nearest rooftop. It was less graceful than the last time she'd seen him do it, but he managed.

Heart squeezing, Ashe turned and trotted for the back end of the alley, intending to circle around the block and come at the Talon building from the other side. She needed to stay focused on her own task, not get distracted by worrying about whether the bum leg would cause Genji too much trouble and maybe get him hurt - or killed.

But darn, it had never been so hard for her to stay focused. Not since the moment she'd seen Jesse snatched by an Overwatch agent in that fateful sting, with Jesse shouting at her to run while he held them off. Now here she was, pulling off the rescue she'd promised him all those years ago. Better late than never, she supposed.

Genji's battlecry was audible from the front of the building as she approached the back, though the foreign words were indistinct at this distance. A grim smile graced Ashe's lips as she heard shouting and gunfire in response, followed by the deeper boom of Bob's guns. The distraction worked; the guard who'd been standing at the back door turned and ran for the front, pulling his gun up to his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner.

Shaking her head at the lax discipline, Ashe snuck up to the back door and quickly hotwired the security, then slipped inside. Alarms were whooping, likely due to Genji and Bob's assault at the front. Even if someone had seen her come in the back on a camera feed, it would take them a while to send security to deal with her.

The inside looked like any other office building - maybe a government one, given the armed security. Ashe could hear confused and distressed voices coming from rooms off the hallway. When she peeked inside one, she saw a cubical rat maze of desks and privacy screens, full of panicking office flunkies. They certainly didn't look like big, bad terrorists, or the kind of people who would attack and blow up her gang. 

For the first time, Ashe felt a twinge of unease about her plan for revenge. What if Genji was wrong about this being a Talon base at all? Maybe it was just some well-guarded corporation. Perhaps it belonged to someone who happened to be in Talon, but so had the legit companies her parents owned, and those desk jockeys hadn't done anything wrong.

Then she found the locked door that led to the basement, hotwired it, and headed down to discover a scene that looked like it belonged in a horror flick. Lab equipment was everywhere, including steel tables with restraints clearly meant for human limbs, racks of equipment that could only be described as torture implements, and one wall lined with barred enclosures like oversized lab rat cages. In one quick glance, Ashe recognized a waterboarding setup, manacles designed to contort the body into painful positions, and what looked like a spanking bench, though she doubted it was put to any such pleasurable use.

And in one corner, huddled awkwardly in a cage too small to allow him to sit up, was none other than a miserable, bruised, scruffy Jesse McCree.


	9. Chapter 9

McCree glanced up with a dull expression when she came bursting into the room, then his eyes widened and he threw himself at the bars of the cage. "Ashe!"

Fury overtook any consideration for whether everyone in the building might or might not deserve to die. Two guards had scrambled to their feet and trained their weapons on her, and Ashe snarled at them. "This is for my gang, you lousy curs."

Then she threw a lit stick of dynamite right into their faces.

One of them managed to dodge far enough to escape the blast, only to get a faceful of shotgun shell as Ashe fired from the hip. He went down in a spray of blood as bright as her eyes, dead before he hit the ground. When she glanced at the other, she found a charred wreck of a body smoking in the corner. "Serves you both right," she declared, smirking as she bent to rifle through the shot guard's pockets for the keys.

"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes," Jesse murmured. His voice was rough, like he was parched - or had been screaming recently. "I knew you still cared more'n you let on."

"Don't count your chickens just yet, farmboy," she retorted, using her anger at him to hide her utter fury at these Talon bastards who'd dared to hurt him. The closer she came to the cage, the more evidence of harsh treatment she saw on him. Still, she couldn't let him think all was forgiven and forgotten between them. "Just 'cause I don't want nobody _else_ killin' you, doesn't mean I ain't still planning on it. You stole my loot _and_ my bike, you bastard."

"Ooh, rough language. You _are_ still pissed." His tone was teasing, but there was a note of real concern that mollified Ashe. "I left the bike where I knew you'd find it. I was just borrowin' it."

"Semantics," she snapped. Finding the right key, she undid the lock and wrenched the cage door open, then helped him crawl out. "Can you walk under your own steam?"

"I'll manage, if it means gettin' out of this hellhole." He glanced around the room. "They took all my gear, but I think they stowed it over there. I'll be a damn sight happier with my peacemaker in hand."

"And more useful," she agreed, leaving him sitting in front of the cage while she went to rummage through the drawers and cupboards. In the third cabinet, she found his dusty hat and boots, armour, and weapons. "Got it!"

"Thank god almighty," Jesse sighed with relief. "Help me up, darlin'."

Between the two of them they got him kitted up fast, and as he placed his hat on his head, he seemed steadier on his feet. Maybe it was just the added confidence granted by having a weapon in hand, but if it meant she didn't have to carry him - or call Genji for help - Ashe didn't care why. "All right," she declared, sweeping one last look around the place. "Let's get the heck outta Dodge."

Getting him up the stairs was an effort, but once on level ground again, Jesse was able to move under his own power. Ashe stayed close, ready to catch him if his unsteady legs gave way. Reaching up, she activated the fancy comm unit Genji had loaned her, just a little plug in her ear. "I've got him, but he ain't movin' fast. We good to come out the front? It's a lot closer."

"I will clear the path. Let me know when you're at the door." Genji sounded distinctly relieved. 

Jesse grunted. "You got the whole gang out there?"

Realizing he couldn't hear Genji, and of course had no earthly notion the ninja might be working with her, Ashe smiled. "An old friend of yours, actually."

"Old friend, huh?" McCree chuckled, which turned into a strangled sound of pain. "Better not be Mateo. That braggart never did know the front end of his gun from the back."

"You'll see." She smirked as they turned a corner and the front door came into view. 

It flew open as a body crashed into it from the outside, bleeding from multiple gunshots to the chest. The soundproofing must have been truly amazing, because the sudden racket from outside was nearly deafening. The sharp crack of pistols, the heavier staccato of machine guns, and the deep chug of Bob's arm cannons were overlaid by panicked screaming and shouting.

Ashe tapped her comm again. "We're coming out now."

Through the earpiece, and also from outside, she heard Genji shout his incomprehensible warcry. "Ryuujin no ken wo kurae!"

Jesse's jaw dropped, and he stared at the door. "What in the... is that _Genji_?"

Laughing at his shocked expression, Ashe sauntered forward. "What can I say? Man's useful in a fight. I'm thinkin' about recruiting him." If only there was any chance he'd agree.

When she stepped outside, she found a scene of utter chaos and destruction. Most of the security force were dead, of either bullet wounds or throwing stars. The few left were being cut down systematically by Genji, who had drawn his long sword. Raijin swirled around him, far larger than Ashe was used to, and there was no hint of the sweet, cuddly dragon in the raging beast now before her.

The two of them together were nothing short of a work of art. Even with the bum leg dragging, they put those wire-fu ninja movies to shame, a blur of piercing green light and deadly metal. It was Ashe's turn to stand there with her mouth open, shocked speechless. 

When she did manage to gather her wits enough to find words, the only thing that came out was, "Hot _damn_."

"I do love watchin' the man work," Jesse agreed, with a dreamy sort of tone. Ashe gave him a sharp look, and sure enough, he was eyeing Genji like a fine piece of steak, his gaze locked firmly on the ninja's admittedly glorious rear end. Ashe and Jesse had always had similar tastes, in men and women both, and they'd had some friendly competitions over the years about who would get into their target's pants.

Not this time. "Eyes to yourself," Ashe growled. "He's spoken for." Genji was _hers_ , blast it. Maybe only for another hour or so, but she wasn't letting go one minute before she had to. 

Jesse snorted a laugh, and didn't shift his gaze. "Pretty sure I saw him first, darlin'."

Her blood boiled, and she slammed the barrel of her gun across Jesse's chest, halting him in his tracks. He nearly fell over, caught his balance with a wobble, eyes wide as he stared at her. Ashe lifted the corner of her lip in a snarl. "I said, he's _spoken for_."

Jesse raised his hands in surrender, and the look in his eyes was one of bemused wonder. "All right, Ashe. I ain't aimin' to step on your toes. Didn't realize it was serious, is all. Uh, does _he_ know he's taken?"

"He'd better, if he doesn't want to lose any more bits." Ashe tossed her hair, and resumed her path toward Bob. Genji was just about finished with the last of the goons, and didn't need their help, but lollygagging around wasn't going to do them any good. 

"How in god's name did you crack that nut?" Jesse wanted to know, limping along beside her again. "I tried for years to at least get a friendly word out of him, and he was havin' none of it."

Genji _had_ said that he owed Jesse an apology for bad treatment back in their days in Blackwatch. "Might be he ain't quite the man you remember," Ashe told him. "Says he's changed a lot, anyway. Or maybe," she smirked, "You just ain't as good as me."

Raijin’s piercing green aura faded, and he disappeared entirely as Genji slid his blade home in the sheath on his back. The ninja turned to them, the glow from his visor a much fainter light. "As good as you at what?"

"In bed, obviously," Ashe teased, as she sauntered toward the alley where they’d left the truck. She wasn't ashamed of their relationship or her needs. Besides, it was cute the way Genji choked and sputtered at her brazen statement. She wished she could see the blush that was undoubtedly striping his face through the scars.

She could see Jesse's blush, and it was just as adorable as in the old days. He sighed, and shook his head at her as he limped along behind. "Well Ashe, maybe _he's_ changed, but you sure haven't. C'mon, then. Let's get outta here already. Sooner I have this place at my backside, the happier I'll be."

"Do you have your comm equipment?" Genji asked. "If not, we'll need to steal something from here that can reach the encrypted Overwatch frequencies."

"I got it, but what’s wrong with yours?" Jesse tipped his hat back, frowning at Genji. "And what the heck happened to your leg?"

"Long story." The leg was sparking, but still functioning. Sort of. "I'll tell it on the way back to the farmhouse we've been using as a base. We’ll contact Tracer for extraction once we’re in a secure location. Ashe, are you going to blow the building?"

Ashe thought about the panicked office flunkies scrambling around inside. She had a well-deserved reputation for being ruthless, but she wasn't needlessly cruel. Those desk jockeys hadn't been involved in hurting the gang, probably had no idea there was someone being tortured beneath their feet. "Forget it. You and I killed all the ones that matter. Let's just get outta here."

"Why aren't we going to the hideout?" Jesse wanted to know. "Or am I in for a lynchin' if I go near there?"

"It's gone, thanks to you puttin’ Talon on our tails." Ashe said, her tone short. It was still a painful subject, and she couldn't help but at least partially blame Jesse for the loss. Yanking open the passenger door of the pickup she'd stolen to get them here, she added, "Jesse, inside. Genji, you'll have to ride in the back with Bob."

Dipping his head in a brief bow, Genji hopped up into the bed of the truck. Bob scooped up Jesse without being asked, deposited him gently into the passenger seat, then climbed aboard with Genji. The truck groaned a protest at the added weight, but held.

Ashe went around to the driver's side and swung up into place. She paused long enough to open the back window so Genji and Bob could hear and participate in the conversation, then floored it the heck out of there.

"Whaddya mean, I put Talon on your tails?" Jesse said, frowning. "I didn't tell them nothin' about the gang, or how I got Echo off the train. I swear, Ashe."

It made her feel a little better to know Jesse hadn't ratted them out to save his own hide. Given the torture implements she'd seen in that place, it had been a distinct possibility - and she'd wondered if he'd handed over the gang as a way to avoid turning in his Overwatch buddies, instead.

Genji spoke up. "I suspect Moira came to the same conclusion I did - that it couldn't be a coincidence you chose to rescue Echo in Deadlock, and you must have had help from your old friends. I assume she was involved?"

"Sure was." Jesse spat out the window, a sign of disgust. "Right pissed at me for refusing to give her any info about who's answered the Recall, or what our plans are. Too bad she wasn't there today, I'd've given her a piece of my mind."

"Too bad," Genji echoed, his voice dark and dangerous. “I look forward to seeing her again.”

"Who's this, now?" Ashe wanted to know, glancing at them.

"A former teammate," Genji answered. "Someone we should have been able to trust, who betrayed us."

Jesse snorted. "Never did trust her farther than I could see her, actually."

"Nor I," Genji agreed. 

The answer made Jesse laugh. "Did you trust _anybody_? Don't think I've ever met someone more paranoid than you."

"I trusted you." Genji's response was so quiet, it was almost inaudible above the noise of the truck, but his voice was firm. Jesse turned his head to stare at the ninja, mouth agape. Genji looked away, instead of meeting his eyes. "I didn't _like_ you, but I did trust you. Besides, Raijin thinks you're great, and he has good judgement. He hated Moira."

There was a chittering squeal and a flash of green light, and a moment later the dragon slithered through the window to pool on Jesse's lap. Raijin cooed his happy sound, rearing up to rub his snout against Jesse's cheek. Chucking, Jesse stroked the dragon's back. "Missed you too, little guy. Glad to see ya." He glanced at Ashe, eyebrow raised. "You don't seem shocked by the impossible spirit dragon."

"Enjoy the cuddles while he's excited to see you," Ashe replied, smirking. "He'll abandon you for Bob any second. Two of them're best friends, now. Neither of 'em hardly bother with the rest of us anymore." Bob flicked his lights, a happy blue glow.

"How in Sam Hill did you two end up workin' together, anyway?" Jesse tipped his hat back, staring from one to the other. 

Genji dipped his head. "Winston was concerned by your radio silence. When I responded to the Recall, he asked me to check on you. I came looking for you in Deadlock, since Echo said that is where you were seen last."

"I tried to stick him up," Ashe admitted, grimacing at the memory. She liked Genji well enough now, but she was still annoyed about how bad he'd made her look that night. "Didn't go over so well."

Jesse burst out laughing. "I guess not. Wish I coulda been a fly on the wall for that."

"I was trying to get information on your whereabouts," Genji said, thankfully skipping the humiliating bits. "Then there was an explosion. Talon had attacked the gang's hideout. I went with her to help rescue people, and was damaged in the attempt, as you've seen."

Any trace of laughter fled Jesse's expression. "Wait. You said the hideout was gone, but I thought you meant you were moving it. The gang, they’re..."

"Dead," Ashe confirmed grimly. "The few who're left scattered to the winds, went to join other gangs, mostly. I imagine the sharks have already descended, fighting over the territory the Rebels controlled."

"Aw hell, Ashe. I'm sorry." Jesse looked so genuinely grief-stricken and regretful, Ashe didn't even chide him for the language. "I guess it _is_ my fault, since I gave you the tip about the train and all. I _never_ thought Talon would go that far."

At this point, Ashe only felt weary about the whole thing. The initial burst of rage and grief had faded as she'd focused on getting Genji up and running in order to have her revenge. More than that, knowing Jesse had been running a rescue, not just a heist, put a different complexion on the whole disaster. 

She couldn't even blame Jesse for not just explaining why he needed that crate. Ashe wasn't above holding someone hostage for ransom, and he knew that. Had their positions been reversed, Ashe would have done the same to save Bob, and that was a fact.

"Maybe Genji had a point when he said I should put the blame where it really belongs,” she acknowledged. “Talon has made themselves an enemy, and they _will_ come to regret it. Nobody crosses Calamity Ashe."

"Don't I know it," Jesse sighed. "Half expected you to blow my head clean off, when I saw you in there."

"I'm still tempted." Flicking a glance at him, Ashe saw that he was leaning against the side of the truck, as if he was having trouble holding himself straight. His hand was motionless on Raijin's back, though the dragon was nudging him to try to get more pets. It was clear that for all his brave front, Jesse was on his last wind. 

Ashe frowned. "You might as well rest up. We've got a bit of a drive yet."

"Yes," Genji agreed. "Save your strength. You are safe, now, and we'll have you to Mercy soon enough."

"It'll be good to see the doc again," Jesse said, closing his eyes. Immediately, his voice started to slur with weariness. "Be good t'see everyone."

"And they will be glad to see you," Genji replied. "As am I."

There was no answer from Jesse, who had either fallen asleep or straight up passed out. Ashe held her tongue as well, not sure what she could possibly say. The two of them were looking forward to a reunion, but for her, it was only going to be a goodbye.


	10. Chapter 10

Genji meditated in the back of the truck on the ride, ignoring McCree's raucous snores with the ease of long practice. Harder to shut out of his thoughts was Ashe's silence. He'd rather have been talking to her, making the most of their last bit of time together, but he couldn't think of anything to say and she wasn't starting the conversation, either. 

Perhaps it was just as well. Better to begin the process of separation now, rather than draw it out painfully.

As they made the last turn, bumping onto the poorly-maintained gravel road, McCree finally woke. He sat up and looked around, then frowned. "Ashe, tell me we ain't goin' where I think we're goin'."

Intrigued by the question, Genji looked at Ashe. To his fascination, a bright flush spread over her cheeks, the colour rivaling her eyes for intensity. He'd never seen her blush before.

"We needed somewhere safe to hole up in, after the explosion," she replied, her tone defensive. "Some place nobody'd think to look for me, just in case they were still huntin'. Given my well known feelings about you, I figured your old farm was the last place anyone'd look."

"Your farm?" Genji repeated, surprised. "You own it?" The house had been dilapidated and neglected, the barn and silo falling apart to the point of being hazardous, the fields untouched for years. He'd assumed it was abandoned.

McCree grimaced. "My family's farmed that land for generations," he admitted. "My parents never forgave me for not bein' content to do the same. Seein' as I had a big price on my head at the time they died, I didn't figure it was a good idea to contact someone to find out if they really did cut me outta the will. Guess not, if it's sittin' empty. I ain't been back since I ran away as a dumb teen."

"You’ve been sleepin' in his old bedroom," Ashe told Genji, and there was a distinct smirk on her lips as she glanced at McCree. "Just sleepin’, of course."

"Way too much information," McCree groaned. "I don't wanna know."

Genji felt a blush of his own creep over his cheeks, knowing he'd been having sex with Ashe in a bed that belonged to McCree. It seemed rude somehow, like an intrusion of privacy, even though McCree hadn't lived there for decades.

When they pulled up in front of the farmhouse, Bob had to help McCree out of the truck. Once on his feet, however, the man steadied enough to be able to limp inside under his own power. Genji watched closely, looking for signs of greater damage than bruises, but there was no blood he could see. McCree had lived this long; he'd probably make it to Angela without dying in the process. 

"Ashe, what're you gonna do now?" McCree asked, collapsing into a seat at the kitchen table. Bob moved toward the stove, probably intending to make tea. It seemed to be the big omnic's response to stressful situations of any kind.

"Start over," Ashe replied, grimly determined. "I've built that gang from the ground up twice now; once with you and the others, and again after Overwatch busted us and you hightailed it off to greener pastures. I can do it a third time."

Genji hated the thought of leaving her here, alone except for Bob, vulnerable to the 'sharks' she kept talking about. He had no doubt that she had the grit and will to build herself up from nothing, but it pained him to think of how hard it would be for her.

McCree tipped his head, watching her thoughtfully. "Y'know, there is another option," he said. "You could come with us. Help us rebuild _our_ gang, so to speak." 

Genji's heart leapt at the thought. It hadn't occurred to him that she would even consider that possibility, and so he hadn't raised it. But McCree surely knew her better than Genji, and if he believed there was a chance of convincing her... 

"You would be welcome," Genji told her. He hesitated to say anything more personal with McCree there, listening. He didn't _think_ his old teammate would tease them - too much - but Genji was a private person, and uncomfortable displaying his feelings in front of anyone other than their intended recipient.

Unfortunately, Ashe did not appear to appreciate their invitation. "I don't consort with the law, you know that," she snapped, incensed. 

"And I keep telling you, we are not what you think," Genji countered. "If anything, we would be labelled terrorists, now. We few who answered the Recall are operating outside the law, existing in the shadows, doing what must be done." It was the perfect environment for a ninja, though he knew those like Tracer and Winston were less comfortable with it.

"Sounds like hero work to me," Ashe retorted. "Not my idea of the good life."

"And staying here is?" Genji gazed at her, willing her to understand how much he wanted her to come with them. "You and Bob alone, with all the world against you, trying to build a reputation of honour out of the dregs of society? You've complained more than once about how much trouble you sometimes have, getting your gang to follow your rules. Those who join you this time will be even worse, the ones desperate enough to come to a gang that's been decimated."

She grimaced, and he knew he'd scored a point. Still, she shook her head, stubborn to the core. "I also don't take orders from nobody. So unless you plan to have me runnin' the place, that'd be a bit of a problem, I reckon."

That was a fair point. Genji had to admit he couldn't picture her submitting meekly to Winston's orders, and that would be compounded by the fact that the scientist was uneasy in his new position of command. 

Still... "You say that like either McCree or I are in the habit of obeying without question," Genji pointed out, and McCree chuckled. "You are capable of working together with others, and you ceded authority to me today because you knew I had more experience planning this kind of assault. It would be no different. Nobody among us would consider you lesser, for not being in charge."

Was that a hint of uncertainty in her expression? She hesitated, as if not sure what to say, or how to argue further.

McCree looked from Genji to Ashe and back again, then cleared his throat. "Y'know, I'm about dyin' for a good scrub. I think I'll make use of the shower, clean up a bit before Tracer gets here. This ain't exactly the first impression I wanna make on everyone, after bein' away so long."

It was obvious he was giving them space for a private conversation, and Genji was embarrassed that they were being so transparent. At the same time, he was grateful for the consideration. As McCree limped out of the kitchen, Bob set the tea service on the table, then turned and followed McCree out. Genji and Ashe were left alone, standing there staring at each other, neither certain of what to say next.

Finally Genji sighed. "Well, that was unusually subtle of McCree."

Ashe snorted. "Subtle as a house on fire."

"Yes," Genji agreed, with a wry smile she wouldn't be able to see. "For him, that is an improvement over his usual bull in a china shop approach." 

He succeeded in making her laugh, which eased the tension between them considerably. She stepped forward, coming into his space, and reached up to pull his mask off so they could see each other properly. Genji allowed it, and habit had his hands coming to rest at her hips. They'd been in exactly this position so many times in the last week, it felt natural. He had to resist the urge to capture her mouth in a kiss, taste her one more time.

The same longing was reflected in her eyes, but she didn't close the distance. "You could stay, y'know," she said, tracing her fingers over his scarred cheek. "You'n'me together, we wouldn't just own this town, we'd rule the whole darn state. We could do it up proper, bring some of that Yakuza tradition and honour to it, but _our_ way."

Genji sighed, and tilted his head into the contact, rubbing against her hand. "I never thought I would find myself tempted to return to gang life." He'd left that world behind him with gladness, finding a much better place to fit him and his talents. And yet, the picture she painted tugged at his heart with longing. Not because he wanted to run a gang, but because he wanted to do so with her.

They'd had such a short time together. How had she already laid claim to so much of his heart?

"But you are, right? Tempted?" She traced his cheek again, trailing her fingers down over his jaw, a blatant invitation for more.

Groaning, he tightened his grip on her hips and rested his forehead against hers, again fighting the urge to kiss her. One last hot, sweaty bout of sex on the kitchen table would accomplish nothing except to make this even more painful. "Elizabeth Ashe, where I’m concerned you are temptation personified. I have never met anyone like you, and I never will again."

Her lips twitched in a smile, though her gaze reflected regret. "Listen to you, all fancy talk. You sound like the teachers at my old finishing school, only sexier. Mmm, that could be fun, playing teacher and schoolgirl, huh? I bet I could dig up a uniform somewhere. Sure you don't want to reconsider?"

Speaking of temptation. The mental image of her in a blazer and little plaid skirt made his cock jump with need. "I will be second guessing this decision for the rest of my life, and regretting it each time," he assured her, his voice hoarse. "But I owe too much to those who wait for us at Gibraltar, and I will not forsake them for my own selfish desires. No matter how much I wish to do so."

To his dismay, she pulled back, out of his reach. Standing there with her hands on her hips, hat tipped back and red lips twisted in a wry smile, she was everything he'd never known he wanted in a woman. "Not gonna follow Jesse's lead and beg me to go with you?"

Genji laughed, and if the sound was bittersweet, surely nobody could blame him. "You are not a woman who follows a man anywhere. You go where you wish, and a wise man counts himself lucky if he is able to stand by your side."

Her smile grew, though it was as conflicted as his laugh. "Sweet talker. You ain't wrong. I guess that's that, then. You won't stay, and I won't go."

That was, indeed, that. Though it was exactly the conclusion Genji had always known this conversation would reach, still he'd hoped for a better answer in the end. She offered his mask back, and he took that as an indication that she wanted a clean break, not one last kiss.

Just as well. He truly didn't know if he could stop at one kiss. She was his drug, and he was addicted. Withdrawal was going to be painful. 

Best to start now. Sliding the mask in place, he bowed his head to hopefully hide the emotions that were surely showing in his eyes. "Farewell, Ashe. I will never forget you."

"Sayonara, sugar," she replied, surprising him by knowing the word. "Offer's open, if you ever change your mind." Turning, she strode off in the direction Bob had gone, head held high and shoulders back, every inch the fierce warrior queen.

Genji wondered if she'd turned away so quickly because she was fighting unexpected tears, too.

* * *

As Genji walked with McCree out to the pasture where the dropship had landed, the other man kept flicking hopeful little glances over his shoulder at the farmhouse. There had been no sign of Ashe since she'd left the kitchen, though Bob came out to wave goodbye. Ashe seemed disinclined to see them off, and in a way, Genji was glad. This was already so much more painful than it should have been.

McCree sighed in obvious disappointment when they reached the ramp of the ship. "You couldn't convince her to come?"

Genji snorted. He was in almost as foul a mood as he'd been the last time he and McCree rode in this ship together, back when he'd still been so full of rage and hatred. This time his emotions had no target but himself, as he called himself seven kinds of fool for falling for her. 

"She does as she pleases," he replied, trying not to outright snarl. He didn't want to alienate McCree and lose their second chance at a friendship before it even started. 

"Well, yeah," McCree agreed, turning to wave back at Bob. "But you did _try_ , right?"

"On the basis of what?" Genji growled. "A week's worth of gracing her bed, under intense conditions that will never be repeated? I'm not _that_ good a lay. It is her decision. I will not attempt to emotionally coerce her into doing what _I_ want her to do, by begging."

“Hell, Genji.” McCree stopped short, one foot on the ramp, and tipped his hat up to better stare down at Genji. “Of course she does what she wants, always has. Ain’t nobody more stubborn than Ashe, and ain’t nobody knows that better than me. You can’t bully or coax her into anything - you gotta convince her why _she_ should want it. You tellin’ me you didn’t even make an attempt?”

Genji stared at McCree, shellshocked. 'Convince her why she should want it'. Genji and McCree were asking her to give up everything she'd ever known, everything she'd built and worked for. Of course she would need to know they were truly sincere in the invitation, that she was _wanted_ there. That _he_ was worth the sacrifice. 

Fuck, she’d outright asked Genji to beg her to come along. And what had he given her? A potentially empty promise that he regretted leaving her behind, without making any effort to change her mind.

"I'll be right back," he blurted, and ran out of the dropship. His ears burned as he heard McCree chuckling behind him, but he ignored it. This was more important than his embarrassment.

As Genji approached the house, Bob shook his head and pointed to the side, towards the ramshackle barn. Genji changed direction with a nod of thanks, glad the big omnic approved of him pursuing Ashe. If Bob hadn't wanted to go with them, Ashe would never leave her companion behind.

He rounded the barn to see Ashe facing away from him, holding a slingshot as she methodically destroyed a row of bottles she'd lined up, about fifty meters out. Her aim was impressive, but wasn't what he cared about at the moment. "Ashe!"

She turned, startled, and he was dismayed to see streaks of mascara on her cheeks. She'd been crying, enough to cause her makeup to run, and that stuff had survived plenty of sweaty sex without so much as a smudge. 

For one instant, her expression was full of pained vulnerability, until she covered it with anger. "What? You forget something?" She swiped a hand over her eyes, but only made the streaking worse.

"Yes. You," he replied, putting all of his heart into the words. He yanked off his mask and dropped it, wanting her to see the depth of his sincerity. "Come with me. Please. I do not want to lose you. I know it's asking a lot. I know you have no reason to leave. _Please_ come anyway."

She swallowed, and vulnerability crept back in past the veneer of anger. Still, her tone was dismissive when she answered. "Have a little confidence in yourself, sugar. Trust me, I ain't the only gal out there willin' and interested in bedding you."

"That's _not_ why," Genji insisted. "Though I won't deny you're dynamite between the sheets, or that the chemistry between us is equally explosive. I want to find out if what we have can be more than mere sex. For the first time in my life, I _want_ to put in the effort of wooing you, spending time with you, going on dates or cuddling or anything at all. Maybe it won't work out. Maybe it will be a disaster, and you'll regret having come. But I _know_ I'll regret it forever if you don't, so... please."

There it was. The best, most impassioned plea he could make. Genji wasn't accustomed to begging for anything, but the sting to his pride was far outweighed by his need to keep her by his side. He waited, heart pounding, breathless, to see what her answer would be.

A slow smile spread over her face, at odds with the tear tracks so clearly marked on her cheeks. "Darlin', I thought you'd never ask." 

She ran to him and jumped into his arms, trusting him to catch her. When he did, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in for a kiss. Genji supported her with his right hand at her ass, his left coming up to tangle in her silky hair, holding her close. The embrace was frantic and sloppy and desperate, and it was the best kiss he'd ever had. 

Raijin flowed up off his back, cooing happily as he wound himself around Ashe's shoulders and then looped across Genji's again, linking them together with his body. Genji broke the kiss to laugh. "I'm not the only one who would miss you."

"Aww, look at that cute begging expression," Ashe cooed right back at the dragon. "Puppies got nothin' on dragon eyes, seems like. How could I say no to that?" She kissed Genji again, slow and sensual this time, as if lingering over the taste of him. He felt the same, unable to get enough of her.

"I will do everything in my power to ensure you do not regret this," Genji murmured against her lips when they broke for air again. 

"You'd better, if you know what's good for you." Ashe's words were stern, but her eyes sparkled with laughter. "Might as well start now." She undid the catch that held the left side of his armour in place, letting the metal fall to the ground to join his mask.

"McCree and Tracer are waiting for us," he protested, but he was unable to make the objection sound convincing.

She chuckled. "Let 'em wait. You want me, you get me on _my_ terms."

"I would not have it any other way," he assured her, and kissed her again. The others would understand. They'd laugh and tease him for years about it, but they'd understand.

Ashe was worth it.


End file.
